BedSprings
Once upon a time there was a girl in Ontario and one in
Illinois who had waaaay too much time on their hands. And
they liked to write. And one day, one of them (and I'll be
darned if I can remember which one) said, 'let's write
something together'. And this is the result. It is a
relationship story. It is an alternate universe story.
It's an angsters paradise. It brings in a couple of new
characters who we hope you will learn to love as much as we
have. And it spawned a whole new set of questions : ) But
we had a blast doing it.
NO SPOILERS (it took us so long, I think we might have
started it before season three premiered)
Some parts are rated mild R--really really mild R--and the
rest is PG. Oh, we do use a couple of nasty words, but only
in context.
Char, do you want to say a few words? (make it brief, kid.
The natives look restless)
Authors Notes [CH]:
Uh, is there anything left to say? Oh yeah, Vickie lied,
there are a few spoilers, I think. At least a few from the
beginning of season three. Tunnels, Vick... Anyway, you can
debate that between yourselves. Brief? You write half a
page and I get to make mine brief? Okay... Uhm, it's
been a pleasure working with Vickie. She's the second
person I've ever written with and I must say I'm delighted
the way this has turned out. It was a long time in the
writing but worth the wait (well, for myself, anyway)
so I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it...
Hey! Put those bloody spears down... Okay,
shutting up...
Disclaimer: We wouldn't infringe for the world! We love
you CC and we are more than willing to let you make all the
money in the world off these characters. And when I get
more than one client, I (vm) plan on buying stock in FOX so
that I can say I own a little piece of them, too :)
And now, on with the show:
T h e
- -
\ /
X BED SPRINGS
/ \ By Vickie Moseley & Charleyne Hall
- - vmoseley@fgi.net
F i l e s drakkar@bconnex.net
-----
Kingsley Hotel, Conference Wing
Washington, DC
August 17, 1996
It was unbelievably warm in the auditorium. He couldn't
concentrate on the speaker. He couldn't concentrate on
anything. He was too worried about the sweat that seemed to
drip endlessly from his brow, threatening to land on his
tuxedo, staining it. He wiped his forehead with a small
handkerchief and strained to pay attention.
". . . And as a pleasant surprise, we have some positions
opening up this year that are open to our best field agents. . ."
the man at the podium said.
Fox Mulder just couldn't stand it any more. He muttered
something to the woman next to him, an agent he'd never seen
before, and carefully made his way down the row of people to
reach the exit. He pushed out the door and stood for a few
moments, letting the silence of the room envelope him. He
was in a bigger room, a lobby, which had several other rooms
and hallways that branched off in all directions.
He released a sigh and ran a hand through his neatly kept
brown hair. He took a few breaths, then made his way to a
table which held cups of drinks in Dixie cups. He smiled and
took a glass of water. The coolness of the liquid over his
tongue made him feel much better. He paused one more time,
drinking down the last of the water, before returning to the
auditorium from which he had just come.
He took a seat near the back of the room, so that if he
had to leave again, he'd be able to make a hasty exit. He
paid closer attention to the speaker this time, while looking
over the crowded room.
It was filled with FBI agents from all different fields,
all dressed immaculately and all sitting patiently, waiting to
hear who would get the next award, promotion or
commendation. There were a great many female agents, as
well as male, most dressed formally. He glanced about the
crowd, looking for his partner.
When he didn't see her, he assumed that she'd left the
room for some air, just as he had. He stopped searching and
turned his attention back to the speaker, but soon after he had
finished talking. There was no mention of his name or his
partner's. He was glad in a way. He knew they should have
been rewarded in some way for the most recent case they had
solved, but he didn't want a public display. It was all too fresh
in his memory and he didn't want to relive it in front of a
roomful of strangers.
The auditorium quickly began to empty, tired and hot
agents streaming out. Mulder walked casually among them,
then found a spot near the wall where he could stand and
drink his water in relative peace. Before long, he found
himself getting bored.
He watched, with an amused grin, as the Assistant
Director of the FBI began to walk towards him. When the
man reached him, he held out his hand.
"Agent Mulder," Walter Skinner said as Mulder shook his
hand. Mulder was somewhat confused as to why the FBI
A.D. would be so boldly shaking his hand.
"Sir?" he asked.
"Have you seen Agent Scully?" Skinner asked, scanning
the room for the woman Mulder himself had been looking for,
earlier.
"No, sir, I haven't. I don't even know if she's here,"
he said. It was unlike Dana Scully not to show up to a
mandatory awards ceremony, and Mulder began to feel a pang
of worry, although he quickly pushed it away. Scully could
take care of herself.
"All right. Well, when you see her, I need to see the
both of you." Skinner's frown was replaced by a smile as he
nodded to Mulder, then made his way off to congratulate
some of the other award winners.
Mulder watched the tall, balding man for a few
minutes, then decided it was time to leave. He searched his
pockets for his car keys and then slowly began to walk to the
door, clutching them in his hand.
-----
FBI Headquarters
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
Mulder breathed a sigh of relief as he walked into the dark
office. Dark, except for the glowing monitor in the far corner
of the room. In the glow, he could see the silhouette of a
person. He smiled then.
"Scully?" he asked, closing the door, removing his
coat and blindly hanging it on the coat rack beside the door.
"Mulder," she said. He took a moment to turn and
flick on the light of the office. For a moment his eyes needed
to adjust, he blinked. When he opened his eyes, he could see
Scully sitting behind the console. She wore a green strapless
dress, that fit to her body perfectly. Her auburn hair was
shiny and curled, locks of it hanging in her green eyes.
Mulder suppressed a reaction that had triggered deep in
his stomach and had tried to work its way through out his
body. He sighed, pulling at his bow tie, as he crossed the
room to sit in a chair next to her.
"So, what are you doing?" he asked, puzzled.
"Working on the report we were supposed to file
yesterday," she replied, then turned her gaze to him.
"You didn't go, did you?" The look on her face told
him the answer already.
"No. I didn't feel like going. I got all dressed up, then
decided that I wasn't going to go. Besides," she tapped
the monitor. "This was really supposed to be in."
"Scully, maybe you should stop working for just a
moment," he said, then he reached for her hand. "What's
really bothering you?" he asked. He thought he saw her
curse under her breath, but she only gave him a weak smile.
"Mulder, I'm just not feeling so well," she said, but
he knew she was lying.
"Have you eaten anything tonight?" He allowed the lie
slide.
"Not yet but--"
"But nothing. Since we're both all dressed up, we're
going out for dinner. I'll buy," he said. Scully gave him a
grin.
"Well, if it's your treat, then I can't pass that up," she
reached forward and tugged at his tie. "Need any help with
that?" she asked, indicating the tie that hung loosely around
his neck. There wasn't a mirror that he could look in to do it
up again.
"I suppose," he said, standing up and moving back so
that she'd be able to reach. He watched as she got out of the
chair in a liquid motion, the green pumps on her feet adding a
bit of height. She reached forward and gently tied the tie. As
he felt the closeness of her, that feeling rose again. This time
he allowed it to linger longer, before pushing it to the side and
washing it away with thoughts of their friendship.
"Did Skinner talk to you yet?" she asked as she
stepped away to look at his tie, making sure it wasn't crooked.
"About?"
"Well, I'm not sure I should--" she said, then stopped.
Mulder stepped forward and gripped her bare shoulders
gently.
"Believe me, if I'm getting into trouble again, I'd like
to know about it." He fixed her with an unnerving stare,
hoping to get her to talk. He knew she'd tell him anyway,
but he liked to make her feel intimidated.
"That's just it, Mulder. You're not getting into
trouble," she said. The unnerving stare wasn't working so
well. It sounded as though she wasn't going to tell him.
"Well, then I guess I can wait for Skinner to tell me,"
he said, although he would try other tactics later, when she
least suspected it. She nodded, picking up her purse and
jacket from the back of her chair. "You're going to get it for
not showing, Scully," Mulder teased as they left the
office, heading for the fresh night air of Washington, DC.
-----
Dana Scully picked at the salad, watching as Mulder
devoured his steak. She didn't feel much like eating. In fact,
she was so torn up inside that she really didn't even feel like
being with Mulder. Their last case had been so big, so
intense, that neither had gotten much sleep or, for that matter,
time to do anything. It had all paid off, though, that being
the reason she was so torn up.
Skinner had called her at home, the day after they
wrapped up the case, to talk. At her home, was the key, that
meant something big was happening. She had listened quietly
as he used small talk to work his way up to what he really
wanted. She remembered back to the conversation.
"Hello, Agent Scully?" The man had asked, in an
unusually cheerful tone.
"Yes?" she'd asked, almost too exhausted to talk to
him. She had been lying on her couch peacefully watching an
old black and white, soundless movie.
"I wanted to congratulate you on your recent success,"
he stated flatly.
"Thank you, sir," she yawned.
"Actually, I called for another reason as well. I know
I should have perhaps done this in my office, one on one, but
it can't wait until your holidays are up."
"Sir?"
"Well, Dana," he said, using her first name. "There are a
few positions opening up that need to be filled as soon as
possible..." he trailed off, she could almost picture him
pondering what to say next. "The director and I have
discussed it. We would like to give you and Agent Mulder
the chance to move up in the Bureau," he finally said. Scully
had sat up then, turning the annoying television off. The
images had begun to hurt her eyes.
"Sir, that's great! I'll talk to Mulder and see what
he says," she offered, but Skinner had refused.
"I prefer to talk to Agent Mulder myself. I will do it
at the annual awards service. However, I want you to consider
carefully and let me know," he said, then after a few more
words had hung up.
From that night on, Scully had felt both happiness and
a dire sadness.
A hand was waving in front of her face. She smiled,
focusing on Mulder's face. Just the sight of him made her
shiver with an excitement. She pushed the feeling aside, then
smiled at him again. She liked it when he dressed formally.
It impressed her, as well as others around them, to see
*Spooky* Mulder dressed up. His black tuxedo seemed to
hang on his body perfectly. His brown hair was brushed and
slightly gelled, a few stray strands hanging over his eyes.
Even his big hazel eyes had a special allure when he was
dressed in such a formal matter.
Even though Scully knew that he hated to be dressed
like that, she thought he was perfect for it. No other man
suited a bow tie like Mulder did. She watched as he
played with it now, knowing that he couldn't wait to get out of
it.
"Did I tie that too tight?" she asked, and he instantly
dropped his hand to the table.
"Nah, just hate these things." She nodded, then finally
stabbed a piece of lettuce and put it into her mouth. As she
chewed, she decided that she would tell Mulder she'd been
offered a promotion.
"Mulder, can we talk for a minute?" she asked, after
she'd chewed the lettuce. She wasn't feeling like eating. She
pushed the plate away, and set her elbows on the table,
folding her hands beneath her chin.
"Sure, what's up?" A look of concern crossed his
face. You should be concerned, she thought, rather selfishly.
"Well, I was talking to Skinner the other night and he
mentioned something to me. . ." she trailed off, looking for
the much needed words to explain. She knew that telling him
about the offer of promotion would upset him. It would mean
that she would be leaving the X-Files, probably for good.
The fact that he would soon be offered a promotion too,
somewhat eased her pain, but she still felt miserable.
"And?" he probed, hoping that she would continue.
"Well, Mulder, I've been offered a promotion and I'm
heavily considering it," she finally blurted, deciding
that the best way is the straight way.
"Scully, that's great!" he said, not a hint of remorse
was in his voice. A great weight lifted off her chest and she
found herself breathing a little easier.
"Mulder, I thought you'd be upset. . ."
"Scully, it's what you've wanted for so long, why
would I be upset?" he asked, fixing her with one of the
happiest smiles she'd ever seen. There seemed to be
something wrong with the picture, but his happiness really
looked genuine.
"I just thought--"
"Scully, believe me, you thought wrong. If you have
the chance to move up, then by all means take it! It's the best
thing for you. I'll be able to handle the X-Files, heaven
knows I've done it before." She smiled then, his words made
her feel so much better.
"I guess I wanted you to be a little upset," she said,
smiling. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, but she
waved it off. "Mulder, I'm just so glad that you're okay with
this, because I'm seriously considering it."
-----
Mulder's Apartment
September 1, 1995
9:37 pm
It had all happened so quickly, it still made his head swim.
They had both received promotions. Nice hefty promotions
that gave them good salary bumps, more vacation days and offices that had heat, and windows. Even
though Scully was all the way over in Quantico, and he was
still in Headquarters, they ended up at all the same staff
meetings, all the same briefings, and managed to talk on the
phone to each other about a dozen times a day. In short, it
was exactly what he had been hoping for.
He closed his eyes for a moment and the image flashed in
his mind again. He saw the gun fire, saw the killer's face twist
into a sneer as he knew that the bullet would hit his target. He
heard himself screaming and pulling his own gun into range
and firing before he even saw her fall. And then the killer was
down, and Mulder dropped his own weapon, ran over to
Scully and was positive he would find her dead. Tears were
already streaming down his face as he saw all the blood, the
bullet had torn right along the hairline. He was trembling as he
lifted her into his arms and he was sobbing and suddenly . .
.she was struggling!
"You're hurting me, Mulder," she had rasped as she tried to
sit up, still dizzy and woozy. "And you're getting my blouse
soaked. . ."
The bullet had glanced off her temple. The blood was
actually much less than it could have been, but seemed ample
enough to Mulder. He had practically carried her to the
ambulance and strapped her down on the gurney. All the
while she was being checked out, he was vowing to himself
And this time, he
would make it stick.
A couple of phone calls to the Hill and suddenly, it was
'Skinner's idea' to promote them to the new positions. His Hill
contacts were only too pleased to get Mulder into a 'safer'
position. Even Senator Matheson had pointed out that it was
hard to 'find the truth' from a grave. Judging from the last
year, there were far too many close calls to ignore the wisdom
of that statement.
He shifted positions on the couch and his gaze fell on the
picture of Samantha. He never looked at that picture without
a twinge in his heart. "I'm not giving up, Sam. I'm not. It's
just that I can't risk Scully's life anymore! Too much has
happened, too many times we've been too close and one of
these days. . ." he let his voice trail off. "But I'm not giving
up. I'm just changing my position on the chess board. I'll be in
a different spot, more authority, more responsibility. More
like a knight than a pawn. Closer to the top. It can only help
me find you, find the truth. I promise." The ringing of the
phone broke him out of his reverie.
"Mulder."
"Are we still on for tomorrow?" asked the all too familiar
voice on the other end of the line.
"Scully, I don't know. I mean, this is a big step for me.
Maybe we should just slow down, let me get used to the idea. .
."
"No way am I going to let you out of this now, Mulder,"
Scully growled into the phone. "It is not healthy for you and
you know it. Besides, who ever heard of an ASAC who didn't
own a *bed*! If word ever got out. . ."
"Okay, okay, point made. But I don't want to spend all day
looking at furniture. I'd rather have my teeth drilled. How
about a movie or two or three after we make this momentous
decision in my life," he teased.
"ONLY if you actually BUY the bed, Mulder. That can be
your reward. I'll be by at 9:30 to pick you up, so be ready,
okay?"
"Yes, master," he said in a zombie voice. "See you
tomorrow morning," he added and hung up the phone. As
long as he still had Scully in his life, the changes he was
making were really superficial. It would all work out, he was
sure of it.
-----
The shopping mall was crowded and Mulder couldn't help but
feel a little self conscious. He towered over most of the people,
including his friend who now stood beside him, tapping her foot
impatiently.
"Come on, Mulder, now's not the time to ponder over which
pillow case you want," she said, grabbing at the bag which held
a plain blue set of pillow cases.
"Scully, I thought this was all part of buying the bed. . ." he
said, trailing off and looking around the huge department store
that she had dragged him into. She smiled at him, waving her
hand and indicating the large selection of beds for him to choose
from.
"Why don't we worry about getting the bed first, then you can
dress it on your own!" she said, tossing the pillow cases back
onto the rack. She gently took hold of his arm, pulled him to one
of the beds then pushed him back onto it. He flopped onto the
soft mattress, losing his balance. She towered over him,
grinning.
"It's perfect, I'll take it," he murmured.
"Mulder," she rolled her eyes. "You've at least got to try a
few others first!"
"Why? I'll never use it," he said, sitting up and bouncing
lightly on it. Then a grin crossed his face and he perked up.
"Why don't you," he said slowly, then he reached out and
roughly pushed her in the stomach, sending her backwards,
toppling onto the bed across from him. ". . .test that one out for
me?" He watched her bounce.
"Hey!" she cried, sitting up and laughing. "Not fair!"
Mulder smiled, he didn't know he could have so much fun
shopping.
He and Scully checked out a few more beds, before deciding
on the first one that he'd tried. Mulder pulled out his credit card
and paid for it, arranging to have it delivered the following day to
his apartment. The clerk who took his card smiled at him, then
noticed Scully who was over looking at the pillow cases again.
"Don't let your girlfriend pick those for you, you'll end up
with pink ones," he said, winking at Mulder.
"She's not my--" Mulder began, but then the clerk laughed,
as Scully picked up a bag containing pink pillow cases. Mulder
turned back to the clerk. "I won't let her buy those. It's bad
enough that she's making me get the stupid bed!" he said,
reaching out and retrieving his card. He turned and walked away
before he could hear the clerk's laugh.
"Well, good luck, my friend," the clerk said, and went to help
another customer. Mulder smiled as he slowly walked towards
Scully. She smiled, holding up a set of blue pillow cases. This
was definitely a different Dana Scully. This was not the person
who had stood at his back a thousand times, gun drawn, ready to
blow away some particularly nasty killer or mutant or whatever
they had encountered. This was too much like. . .what had the
clerk said? Mulder reminded himself. He
shook his head violently.
his inner voice chided.
His thoughts
demanded an answer. Scully had put down the blue pillow cases
and had just picked up a set with Marvin the Martian emblazoned
on them, proclaiming, "Greetings, Earthling." Her face broke
into one of those rare and precious smiles that had welcomed
him back in Alaska. She looked up at him, still smiling and
holding out the pillowcases for him to see. he answered the inner voice. Mulder grabbed her arm, releasing a chuckle.
"Let's just get out of here, Scully. I've had enough shopping
for one day."
"You did good. I guess I have to keep my end of the bargain:
rent some movies and have you over to my place for spaghetti,
huh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nah, Scully, I don't feel like it. Now that you've bullied me
into getting a bed, I want to go home and relax on my sturdy old
couch," he said, shrugging. "But I am willing to let you rent us
some movies and buy us some Chinese take out."
"Mulder," Scully began, rolling her eyes. He laughed, then
took her arm in his and began to lead her out of the department
store.
"Scully, I really have to get out of here, before I shoot
myself," he complained as they made their way to the car.
Scully smiled, feeling the weight of his arm against hers. She
almost didn't want to let go when he walked her to the passenger
side of the car and waited as he opened the door.
-----
FBI Headquarters
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
7:30 AM
Michael Callavelo stood looking around the office. Not much
was left from the previous owners. A few posters here and
there, two desks and a bunch of filing cabinets which were empty
now. A 1994 calendar, resplendent in the fact that most of the
women pictured were clothed in little more than enlarged pieces
of hardware and tools, was still denoting the month of
November. Mickey asked
himself. On
one corner of the desk was a coffee machine, which was now
brewing a pot. He sighed, running a hand through his thick dark
hair.
Mickey was still a little peeved at ending up here. More
punishment, obviously. It was amazing that the same Attorney
General who could so blatantly forget the actual events that led
up to the Waco fiasco, as the press referred to it, could have
such a long memory over a mere slip of the tongue. If FBI
agents weren't supposed to talk to the press, why had the PR
department set him up with that damn interview to begin with?
He pulled open one of the file drawers. An empty folder
stared up at him. It had the markings of an X file, blue and white
stripes ran the length of the folder. It was empty, waiting for
some unexplained occurrence to fill it with paper and photos.
What on earth was an X-File anyway? He growled and slammed
the drawer shut, venting some of the anger he felt. A low whistle
behind him made him gasp and turn around.
"You should watch your temper, Big Boy," the tall woman
that stood in the doorway said, as she approached carrying a
large brief case and a few file folders under her arm. "Chloe
Grant, your new partner," she continued, putting the briefcase
down and offering her hand.
"Pleased to meet you," he mumbled, checking his anger
slightly. "Michael Callavelo, but you can call me Mickey," he
was surprised by the power in her grip. That was generally a
good thing. He quickly released her hand, taking a moment to
look over her. She wasn't overly beautiful, but she definitely
wasn't nasty to look at. She had long locks of sandy blond hair,
which she wore loosely pulled into an elastic, wisps hanging
behind her ears. Her eyes matched her light azure blazer. She
wore a pair of dress pants and some comfortable looking loafers.
In other words, the image of a typical agent.
Finally he smiled, feeling most of the anger he had previously
felt, draining out of him. He looked to the coffee pot and then
nodded.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I've got some Ginseng tea that I'm
going to brew up a little later," she replied, picking up her
briefcase again. She made her way to the other desk, putting
down the file folders and looking around a bit. "Nice office,"
she said, smiling.
"Yeah. Guess who had it before us?"
"Spooky Mulder?"
"Yup. That's him. He and Doctor Dana Scully had worked
here for four years before getting promoted. Now it's ours."
"So we can continue on the X-Files. . ." She said, nodding at
the small office.
"Listen, I don't know if you could tell, but I'm not really all
that happy about being here. I'm not even sure just what an X-
File is. I mean," he paused, gathering thoughts and trying to
assemble them in a reasonable fashion. "I mean, I know they
have to do with paranormal but I just don't see--" He stopped,
frustrated that his words wouldn't come out.
"Mickey, I want to show you something," Chloe said, pulling
up a chair and opening one of the folders that she'd carried in.
She spread a bunch of black and white photos out on the desk
and moved back, allowing him to study them.
"What is this?" He asked, swallowing nervously. The grin
had long since faded from her face.
"Our first case," she said, leaning back in the chair and
putting her feet up on the desk, hands linked behind her head.
As he studied the photos Mickey began to feel sick. Each
photo showed a young child, between the age of eight
and twelve. Six in all, and most of them were females. He
couldn't tell, just by looking, what had killed them, but he was
sure that the report would detail that much information. He
raised an eyebrow and picked up one of the photos for a closer
look. He looked to his new partner, wondering what she thought
of the situation. She stared forward, towards the door, no
expression on her face. He put the photo down and cleared his
throat.
"Uhm, where's the autopsy reports?" he asked, picking
through the folder.
"Right here," she said and flipped to the very last page of the
file. She looked up at him then, a grimace on her face. "I don't
know what you believe about human DNA testing, but this case
is clear cut. Those children were used in some sort of
experiments. Their circulatory systems have been completely
changed. The blood is not red, it's green."
"G-green?"
"Yes, green."
"That's impossible."
"I know, but this is the X-Files. I've been told to expect
anything."
"But this is our first case!"
"I know, that's what I thought, but apparently they aren't
going to let us get used to this stuff. I'm supposed to have a
meeting with Agent Mulder to discuss this case, but frankly that
man scares me," she said, tilting her head forward and groaning.
"Would you like me to go with you?" he asked, pulling up a
chair beside her.
"I wouldn't mind. I just don't know what to tell him. We've
been here for less than an hour and we're already onto our first
case. No time to prepare. Nothing!" she cried.
"Maybe he can give us some advice to get us going," Mickey
suggested. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a
package of Certs. "Mint?" he asked. She shook her head,
and sighed. The two of them studied the case, discussing
possibilities and leads, uncomfortable with such a strange case to
start off their work. What neither knew, was that the cases
would only get stranger.
-----
Grandure Cafe
Quantico, VA
12:34 PM
"Here. Take a look at this," Fox Mulder said, tossing a
picture towards Dana Scully. She eyed him curiously for a
moment. Both were seated outside at a cafe, beneath a big
umbrella. Scully sipped at a root beer, Mulder an iced tea.
"Mulder," she said, glancing at her watch. "It's almost time
for my classes to start again." She picked up the picture and
glanced at it. She raised her eyes. "So?" She asked, putting the
picture down again and pushing it across the table towards him.
"So? Scully, this is the most recent X-File."
"Mulder, we're not part of the X-Files anymore," Scully
pointed out.
"I know that. The agent who's now in the department called
me up this morning. Name's Chloe Grant, her partner's Michael
Callavelo, anyway, she's new to this sort of case and she wanted
a little advice. I told her that I would meet with her at three
today and help her out a bit, but you've got to take a look at the
autopsy report."
"Mulder, I have to teach in twenty minutes, I don't have time
for this," she said, pushing back her chair.
"Please?" he begged. She stopped as she had begun to get
up, and leaned across the table, putting her face just inches from
his.
"Forget it," she said.
"You made me get that damned bed!"
"Which has absolutely nothing to do with this."
"I need your help."
"It's not your case."
"They'll fuck it up."
"Mulder, stop it! You're going to have to accept that the X-
Files aren't yours anymore. You gave them up in order to further
your career. I gave them up so that I could go teach, which is
what I'm going to do."
"The autopsy report, it's on your desk. Take a look at it."
"I'll see," she said as she walked away from the table. As she
passed the waiter, she gave him a few bills, covering her meal,
and walked quickly away. Mulder watched as she disappeared
into a crowd of people on the sidewalk. He smiled when she was
gone, musing that she could be so stubborn, but he guessed it
was his own fault. He had arranged for the promotions and now
he had to live with the consequences. But that didn't mean that
he had to completely give up the X-Files. While he had faith in
the new agents, he knew he would be able to pull their strings
from his new position. His grin increased as he began to think
about all the things he could now do.
-----
Quantico FBI Training Facility
Quantico, VA
Offices of Dana Scully
2:00 PM
Dana glanced at the file folder that had been left on her
desk. After looking at that picture today, she found herself
wondering just what was in the file. She hated the way Fox
Mulder could make her do anything he wanted. She hated to
feel that vulnerability.
She glanced around the office. She had been given a large
office and she even had a secretary. A secretary, a wonderful
young man who seemed pleased to be working for her. For
some reason, a male secretary seemed out of place, but she
supposed it was part of the evolution of the male dominance
thing.
Scully put her hand on the folder, then it finally called to
her one last time. She pulled out her glasses and slipped them
on. "Fine, Mulder, just this last time!" she mumbled to
herself, eliciting look from her secretary, who sat at his desk
just outside the open door. She smiled and waved at him, then
gingerly opened the folder, almost afraid to see what was
inside. Before she could begin to read the first line, she heard
muffled voices. She looked up to find a very tall, blond haired
woman and a slightly shorter black haired man, standing
outside the door conferring with her secretary.
She frowned, stood up and went to the door, watching the
exchange. She cleared her throat and watched as all three
turned in her direction.
"Is there a problem here?" she asked, using an
authoritative voice.
"No, no problem--" the secretary began, but the tall
woman, who's eyes had lit up and widened, stepped forward
and pushed her hand toward Scully.
"Dana Scully, I'm so very pleased to finally meet you!"
Scully glanced over the woman and her expression softened.
She didn't know this woman, but was impressed by the aura
that she presented. She reached out and gripped her hand.
She glanced to the man beside the woman, who was standing
very straight, in a professional manner. He, too, gave her the
impression of being a take-charge kind of guy. Her gaze
returned to the woman as their handshake ended.
"Forgive me, but should I know you two?" Scully asked,
nodding toward the man.
"Oh, my God," the woman said, and the man cringed
slightly. "I completely gapped. I'm Special Agent Chloe Grant
and this is Special Agent Michael Callavelo. We're in charge
of the X-Files department."
It finally dawned on Scully, and she nodded, smiling.
Mulder had done it again.
"Agent Mulder sent you here, didn't he?" she asked,
stepping aside and allowing them to enter her office. Scully
smiled as they walked past, shrugged to her secretary then
followed them in, closing the door behind her.
"Actually, no. Agent Mulder hasn't seen us yet," she said,
and then Scully remembered that his appointment wasn't until
three.
"I see, well, what can I help you with?" Scully said as she
took a seat across from them at her desk.
"To tell the truth, I had to meet you. I followed your work
all through Quantico, hoping that I'd get the chance to finally
meet you. Acquiring your old department has given me the
excuse to introduce myself to you. I'm sorry, it seems a little
out of hand, but I just love the work you do," Grant said,
smiling. Scully was awed. No one had ever seemed to take an
interest in her work. Despite herself, she felt that somehow
without having known each other, they had bonded. There
was just something about the woman that reminded Scully of
her sister Melissa, something that made her feel like protecting
the younger agent.
"Well, I'm flattered," she mumbled, not knowing what else
to say. The man beside the woman looked up and grumbled,
crossing his arms across his chest. "Something wrong, Agent?"
Scully asked, leaning back in the chair.
"Oh, no. Nothing. I'm sorry, just clearing my throat," he
said, without looking up from his hands which were twisting in
his lap.
"He's just sore that I dragged him out here," Chloe said,
and gave Mickey a smile. He just smiled sarcastically at her
and shrugged.
"That's not it at all. May I be frank?" he asked,
straightening his back even more.
"Always," Scully said. She wasn't used to this treatment,
especially from other agents. After all, she was still an agent,
it wasn't as though she were his superior.
"Well, to begin with, I've never followed your work very
closely and I'm not sure what your role as Mulder's partner
was, but I just seem to have this old fashioned Italian opinion
that women are supposed to be at--" He stopped, a glare from
Chloe cutting off his sentence. Scully watched as Grant cut
him into pieces with her eyes, and she nearly burst out
laughing.
"Michael," Scully began.
"Mickey, please."
"Fine. Mickey, I want you to understand that I'm not
insulted by what you're trying to say. It seems to me that
you've insulted your partner even more than you have me, but
as Mulder's partner, I was an equal. We both had our share of
work and we both did things that might have seemed incorrect.
You'll find that with the X-Files, no matter how hard you try,
there will be instances when you just cannot follow the rules,"
she stopped, allowing them to process what she was saying.
Grant seemed to be beaming, while Callavelo realized his bias
and backed off a bit. She knew he hadn't meant any harm,
probably part of his upbringing.
She didn't know much about either of the agents, but they
both seemed suitable for the positions they had been awarded.
She could tell just by looking at them that they weren't getting
along too well. Grant struck her as no-nonsense kind of
woman, while Callavelo too appeared to have strong
leadership skills. Together they would be able to make
impeccable decisions, however, unlike Mulder's split-second
ones. It would be good for both of them, and they would be
less likely to get into any trouble.
"I know that you requested Agent Mulder's help in your
first case, which I admit seems a little off, and I'm sure he will
be of great service to you," Scully added, then glanced at her
watch. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Well, Agent Grant has discussed your forensics
capabilities with me, and I must admit your credentials are
excellent, so I wonder if you could possibly look over the
autopsy report and give us a little input," Mickey said quietly.
He looked Scully in the eye, as if trying to determine her
reaction.
"I'd be happy to. In fact, I have it right here; however, I
have another class that I am supposed to teach and I must get
going. Is there somewhere I can contact you?" She asked.
After exchanging business cards, Scully walked both agents
out of her office. It had definitely been an interesting meeting.
To top it all off, Scully was surprised when Grant asked if she
could sit in on one of her classes, explaining that she had
minored in forensics.
After seeing Mickey to his car, Chloe had slipped into the
classroom a few minutes after the class had begun and sat
patiently listening, a perma-smile glued to her face. Scully
definitely liked this woman.
-----
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
2:35 pm
Fox Mulder was almost ready to cry. The pile of folders on
his 'new' desk easily surmounted any he had accumulated on
his 'old' desk in the basement. The difference being the old
folders were files that held his interest. The new folders were
cases that belonged to someone else, some other agent, under
him in the chain of command, who was the designated agent
and had done the work, dug out the clues, figured the puzzle.
His only purpose in the whole process was to read the file,
decide if the proper procedures were followed, and
recommend whether the investigation was complete (ready for
prosecution), incomplete (returned to the agent for further
investigation) or 'unsolved'--one of his formerly beloved
X-Files. It was a growing temptation to label ALL of the files
with an X, but even Mulder had to answer to someone, and he
didn't think the response from above would be favorable.
He stared out the window and didn't even notice the petite
brunette who entered the room and gently place more folders
on the corner of his desk. "Sir, should I 'file' some of these for
you?" a voice asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
"Not till I actually finish with one of them, Tracy. I think
that's the general point here, that I finish them and then give
them to you. Did I miss something in that procedure?" he
replied, more gruffly than he had intended. Her face fell and
he was sure she was going to bolt from the room. He
immediately regretted his comment.
"I'm sorry, Tracy, I didn't mean that. I just. . .I just hate
paperwork, that's all. So much paper, so few matches, you
know what I mean?" he grinned, trying to make it up to her.
Tracy gave him a knowing smile. "It's not what you
thought it would be, is it, sir?" she asked, not really expecting
an answer.
Mulder was a bit taken back. "I am that obvious about it?"
he whined.
"No, but I notice that Dr. Scully's number is the first one on
your speed dial. And you do seem to put off reading the files
that you have to pass along. And I catch you staring out the
window about 50 times a day. That isn't the image of the
'workaholic Spooky Mulder' that I was expecting my first day
as your assistant." One thing she had figured out about him,
you didn't lie to Fox Mulder and stay in his good graces.
Tracy didn't pull any punches with him, and he hadn't for her,
either.
"One time, when I had finished a profile and the guy got
caught, Reggie Purdue told me I'd make ASAC before 35. I
didn't want to believe him. I couldn't imagine a worse fate. So
here I am, 35 and an ASAC. It's scary. But it doesn't get the
work done, does it," he smiled, but it didn't make it all the way
to his eyes.
She gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and went
to the doorway. "It will grow on you, sir," she smiled at him.
"Like nose hair?" he quipped in reply.
"Or athlete's foot," she joked in return and closed the door
behind her.
Mulder reluctantly picked up the folder on the top of the
pile and put on his glasses, starting to read. "Use the damn
spell check, next time," he groused at the absent agent who
had written the report.
Once he got started, he actually managed to finish several
files before Tracy was at his door to interrupt him. "I know
how 'engrossed' you are right now, sir, but Agent Callavelo
is here to see you," she said with a wink.
Mulder broke into a grin and handed her the files he had
completed. "Get these out of my sight, before I declare all of
them unsolved," he whispered. "And send Agent Callavelo
in," he added.
Mickey Callavelo took a deep breath and walked into the
office. He extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you,
Agent Mulder."
"Now, would that be because we're both pariah in the
Bureau, or because you can't make heads or tails out of your
first case, Callavelo?" Mulder replied with a grin, shaking the
younger man's hand firmly. It took him about two seconds to
size up Mickey. What he saw was a lot like looking in a
mirror.
"Well, it's always nice to meet ALL the local outcasts, sir.
Especially the ones who've managed to hang on long enough
to get windows in their offices," Mickey shot back. "But
actually, I'm here because my partner, Agent Grant, seems to
think you can help us with this investigation. What gave her
the idea that you're even interested in the X-Files anymore is
beyond me."
"Oh, I'm interested, Callavelo. In fact, I think
you've got yourselves a doozy in this one. But you've been
through the Academy. You must have some first impressions.
What are your thoughts?" Mulder asked, directing the
conversation away from a dangerous topic--his interest.
"Quite frankly, it looks like a serial killer, in my opinion.
One who preys on children. Not all that unusual," Mickey
answered truthfully.
"Until you get to the part about 'green blood'," Mulder
interjected.
". . .until you get to that part, yes sir," Mickey said as a
frown crossed his face. "But then, that could be a hoax," he
added.
Now it was Mulder's turn to frown. "You think a licensed
Medical Examiner would go along with a 'hoax' like that one,
Callavelo? Where did you grow up, Chicago?"
Mickey shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. "Yes, sir," he
said tersely.
"Well, maybe the ME in Cook County is willing to go out
on a limb, but if you talk to a good pathologist. . ."
"Like Dr. Scully?" Mickey interrupted. Mulder shot him a
fierce look.
Mickey noted to himself.
"Yes, like Dr. Scully," Mulder intoned. "You would
understand that draining a body of all its blood and
substituting another substance usually leaves some kind of
damage. And from what I remember of the report, that
damage was not apparent. That blood was in those children's
bodies BEFORE they died, Mr. Callavelo. If you have a hard
time dealing with that, well, this is going to get to be a REAL
rocky road before this investigation is over."
"Besides, somebody would have picked that up before they
shoved it down in the basement," a female voice chimed in
from the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt, Agent Mulder. I'm
Chloe Grant, Mickey's partner. I was just with Dr. Scully.
She took a few minutes out of her schedule to read over the
autopsy reports. She doesn't feel the blood is a hoax. She
mentioned some files in a tunnel, if you have any idea what she
was referring to," Chloe added.
"Come in and take a seat, Agent Grant," Mulder offered.
he thought to himself. "So,
I take it that you are more willing to go beyond the realm of
normal science to figure out what happened to those children
before they were murdered, Agent Grant?"
"It's my understanding that if these cases could be
explained using conventional methods, they wouldn't be
'unexplainable' to begin with, sir," Chloe said, staring him
directly in the eye. Meanwhile, Mickey coughed loudly into
his hand.
"And you have another opinion, Mr. Callavelo?" Mulder
asked, a bit amused by Mickey's reaction.
"I've seen things get overlooked, sir. And sometimes, the
label 'unexplained' can cover a multitude of sins," he said, not
backing down an inch.
"Sins, Agent? Whose sins?" Mulder asked.
"Sins of the investigators, sins of an ASAC who could
really give a damn. . ." Mickey retorted.
"Well, I see we've strayed into some shark infested waters,
here," Mulder said, taking a deep breath. "First, let me tell
you that Bureau procedure may not be up to your ever
exacting standards, Mr. Callavelo, but it's still pretty damn
good. And if a field agent files the report properly, the man or
woman above him then makes the decision where it goes next.
ASAC's don't grow on trees, Mr. Callavelo. They aren't in
their positions by the Peter Principle, either. They are field
agents who have earned their place. If the procedure looks
sloppy, it's just as easy to dump it back on the agent's lap than
it is to shove to the basement. And it's usually frowned upon
to have too many X-Files, anyway. They're generally
considered 'unseemly'," Mulder let the words drip with acid.
For the briefest of seconds it occurred to him that he was
_defending_ the chain of command. he wondered, but quickly returned to stared
Mickey in the eye.
"Don't get me wrong, Agent Mulder," Mickey interrupted.
"I know there are strange things in this world. And I'm ready
to accept that sometimes science does not hold all the answers.
But if I was condemned to the basement because I am
expected to believe that little green men. . ."
"Little gray men," Chloe and Mulder interjected in perfect
chorus, then looked at each other, surprised. Chloe blushed
and bit her lip. Mickey closed his eyes and shook his head.
Mulder took pity on him. "Not every case will have 'little
gray men', Agent Callavelo. You just got lucky the first
time out. But I think Dr. Scully might have stumbled onto
something when she mentioned the 'files in the tunnel',"
Mulder said, turning the conversation back to the case.
"Is that like the 'White Lodge' on Twin Peaks?" Mickey
muttered under his breath. Mulder shot him a look, and
Mickey, for once, used good judgment and shut up.
The discussion last the better part of an hour. It was finally
decided that only going out to the crime scenes and starting
the real work of investigation was going to get them
anywhere. Mulder dismissed them both, waited for them to
get out of earshot, and picked up the phone.
"Well, what do you think," he asked, not bothering with
such trivial things as greetings.
"About the case or about the Bobbsey twins," Scully asked
lightly.
"I can wait to hear what you think of the case, I've just
gone toe to toe with Callavelo. What do you think of the . . .
who the hell are the Bobbsey twins?" Mulder replied, putting
his feet on the desk and getting comfortable.
"Never mind," Scully giggled. "I've got a class in 5
minutes. I spent my break time with Chloe. How about you
come over to my place after work? We can finish off that
pizza from Sunday and hash this thing out, since you refuse to
let it alone," she teased.
"Hey, it's my job to keep on top of the agents under my
direct chain of command," Mulder said, trying to sound
official.
"So that's what their calling 'sticking your nose in where it
doesn't belong' these days?" Scully laughed.
"Just for that, I'm not helping with the dishes," he
threatened.
"So what else is new? See you around 6:30," she laughed
and hung up.
-----
FBI Headquarters
Basement office
4:05 pm
Chloe hadn't said a word to him all the way downstairs.
She would occasionally look over at him with an expression of
frustration and exasperation. Upon entering their office, she
immediately set to work making travel arrangements for their
trip and continued to ignore his existence.
Mickey had kicked himself all the way downstairs. he had assured himself.
He looked over at Chloe. Chloe--'green sprout', the Greek
word sprung into his head. Jolly Green Giant seemed more
appropriate. His sisters were tiny little things who all married
big burly football types. His own mother barely hit 5' 2". But
for all that height, his partner had the word 'sucker'
permanently tattooed on her forehead, he decided. 'Little
GRAY men', what was that all about? Green, gray, what
difference, the idea of ET coming down and substituting kids'
blood still made no sense at all to him. And then Mulder had
backed her up. Told them both that finding out what caused
the green blood could very well lead to who was killing those
kids and why. It was a link, and certainly strange enough not
to be just a coincidence. This was nuts. he decided to
himself.
Chloe hung up the phone and looked over at him. She had
to admit, he looked miserable. she mused. But for
all his abrasiveness, he didn't seem stupid. He had held up his
end of the debate, and against the BOTH of them, Chloe and
Mulder. He had even had some decent ideas, mixed in with all
the nay-saying. Chloe sighed. Her gut was telling her to give
this guy a chance. And her gut was rarely wrong.
"So, what did you study in school? Diplomacy?" she asked
out of the blue.
He seemed shocked to hear her voice. "Ah, no.
Sociology. And theology," he added softly.
"Oh, you _should_ have studied diplomacy, then," she said.
"It's usually considered bad form to piss off everyone you
meet, you know," she added, but there was humor in her
voice.
Mickey looked up from his close examination of the top of
his desk and stared at her. She wasn't really mad, he decided.
Sort of ready to strangle him if he pulled a stunt like that
again, but not mad enough to request a transfer, or maybe
another partner.
"Yeah, well, where I grew up, diplomacy was for sissies,"
he grinned.
"It shows," she retorted. "But it doesn't help us solve this
case, so, let's start over. I've got us on a 7:35 flight out of
National tomorrow morning. What say we knock off a little
early so we can pack and get some shut eye. I'll meet you at
Gate 15 at five after seven. Okay?"
"You go on home. I want to sort through some stuff here
first."
Chloe shrugged and gathered up her things. As she was
almost out the door when he called to her. "Ah, Grant. . ."
"I prefer Chloe," she said quietly.
"Chloe, then. Ah, I was a real jerk today, and I apologize.
I'm just. . ."
"Over your head? Completely blown away? Ready to
escape to wire tap surveillance?" she interrupted, trying to be
helpful.
Mickey started to get angry, but caught himself and
chuckled a little. "Well, not quite ready for wire tap, YET.
But you have to understand. . ."
"You like things neat, orderly and to make some sort of
sense?" she interrupted, again.
"You're going to keep doing that, aren't you?" he grinned.
"It seems safer than letting you complete your own
sentences," she teased. "Look, I understand. Just promise me
one thing. . ."
"And that is. . ."
"Try and keep an open mind. I don't care if you go looking
for the 'conventional' explanation all the time. But when it
doesn't fit, promise me you won't just throw up your hands
and give up looking. Deal?"
"Deal. Partner," he added sheepishly.
"Sure looks that way," she smiled in return. "See you in
the morning."
-----
Annapolis, MD
Apartment Of D. Scully
7:45 PM
Scully had long since decided that Mulder wasn't going
to show. She paused before the telephone wondering if she
should call him, but decided against it. It was fine with her
that he hadn't shown up. She was exhausted after having
taught three classes that day. Not to mention the
bombardment of questions from Agent Grant. She waved a
hand in the air above the phone and padded down the carpeted
hallway to her bedroom, where she slipped out of her clothes
and into a housecoat. She then proceeded into the bathroom,
turning on the shower. Discarding the house coat, she stepped
into the shower and blessed the warmth of the water as it
drilled onto her aching back. She sighed, turning over the
events of the day in her mind.
She focused especially on the autopsy. She didn't know
what to tell Mulder. It seemed like one of the cases they had
run into in the past. The phrase "Purity Control" came to her
mind and she considered possible connections to the case. She
frowned as she remembered how one of their most trusted
informants had lost his life during that case. The only apparent
connection was the 'green' blood. Scully would definitely have
to see more information to come to a certain conclusion,
however from the looks of it, it was one of the cases that
Mulder would definitely have an interest in.
It suddenly occurred to her that he just might try to
somehow gain a little control of it. For his own good, she
vowed that she would prevent him from doing so, even if it
meant following along with him until she had a chance to deter
him.
She sighed, scrubbing the last of the soap from her hair,
adding conditioner and finally shutting off the water. She
pulled back the shower door, grabbed a towel and began to
dry her hair. She stepped out, finding another towel to cover
her soaking body, as she stepped into the hall. She padded to
her room and was just about to begin dressing when a sharp,
loud knock came at the door.
"Mulder, you pick the damnedest of times!" she mumbled
to herself, then shouted, "Hold on!" as she secured the towel
a little tighter against her body and went to the doorway.
Out of habit, she peeked out the peep hole and discovered
that it was indeed Mulder. She sighed, shaking her wet head,
droplets of water spraying in every direction. She unlocked
the door and opened it a crack.
"You're late," she said. He nodded, pushing the door
open further.
"I know and I'm sorry," he said, as he stepped inside. He
took a moment to regard her, a smile creeping across his face.
He nodded at her, and she sneered.
"Just a minute. Make yourself at home while I go get
changed," she said, feeling a little self conscious.
"Do you have to?" he teased, playfully tugging at the edge
of the towel.
"Mulder!" Scully cried, swatting at his hand with her one
free hand. The other grasped the towel, holding onto it for
dear life. "I should have known better," she mumbled,
stepping away.
"Okay go! Go on. But I can't say that I'll like it," he said,
trying to look sad. Scully laughed and quickly disappeared
down the hallway.
Once in her room, she leaned against the door, allowing
herself to calm down. For some reason his meaningless
teasing had made her feel warm. She paused, deciding what
would be good to wear. She finally decided that a pair of
loose jeans and a sweat shirt, would suffice. She pulled the
clothes gratefully on, and then joined Mulder in the living
room.
Fox Mulder glanced up from the medical journal he held in
his hand when she entered the room. He sighed, wishing she'd
perhaps worn something a little more revealing. He surprised
himself with these thoughts, but he'd been suppressing them
for years and he knew he was sick of it. He also knew that
Scully wouldn't purposely wear something provocative,
especially after the way he'd teased her. It just wasn't her
style.
He smiled, returning his gaze to the journal.
"So, what's your excuse? You were supposed to be here
around six thirty. . ."
"Scully, I was at the office getting a copy of this," he said,
reaching behind him on the couch and presenting her with a
rather fat looking manilla folder.
"And this is. . . ?"
"That is all the current information gathered on the case."
"Mulder, you have to at least give them a chance!" she
said as she crossed the room and sat in an overstuffed chair
across from him. She drew her legs up beneath her and put
the file primly in her lap. Once again his thoughts strayed to
her appearance. He allowed them to linger for just a moment
before pushing them away. He was supposed to be in a
professional mode right now and those thoughts were
definitely not in that category.
"A chance, Scully? They're getting their chance, but I'm
going to be there just to help them along."
"Did you ask if they wanted your help?"
"No--"
"Well, then forget it! You can't continue to do this. If you
really wanted to hold onto the X-Files, you shouldn't have
accepted the promotion." Scully's words bit into him like a hot
knife into butter.
He resisted the urge to become upset and scream. She was
right, of course. He had no one to blame but himself. As the
words flowed from her mouth, her expression suddenly
changed to one of pity as she realized the grave mistake she'd
just made. "Mulder, I'm sorry! I--"
He waved a hand. "Don't worry, Scully. I deserved it," he
said, dismissing it, although it still hurt. "How about you just
tell me what you thought of the autopsy," he continued,
ignoring the previous conversation.
"As I mentioned before, I'd have to say it's definitely
something that we've seen before. But I can't seem to put it all
together. Anything we've seen before has mostly involved
adults et cetera, not younger children." She shifted position,
the file sliding on her lap, then continued. "I mentioned to
Grant about the files in the tunnel, hoping that you'd explain
further. Did you?"
"Yeah, I quickly outlined what we found for them and gave
them the ID number for the X-File case they could find more
information under." Mulder sighed. He wasn't sure if he
should mention something he'd been thinking about earlier that
day, or if he should just let it go. She certainly didn't like the
idea of his poking into the case.
"Mulder?" Scully asked. He realized he'd been staring off
into space. He decided he had better tell her what he was
thinking, instead of trying to hide it. He knew that sooner or
late she'd figure it out.
"Scully, I've been thinking. I don't know how to say this
but, well, I think this case has something to do with the
disappearance of my sister. If not, then I think it's similar," he
whispered, silently praying that she wouldn't discard the idea.
She looked shocked, then her eyebrows knit together as
she considered the idea. She closed her eyes and Mulder felt
his heart sink.
"I thought about that too, Mulder. I just didn't want to get
your hopes up," she admitted quietly. He almost didn't catch
her words. He regarded her for a moment, then she slowly
opened her eyes and showed him a sadness that ran
deeper than simple sorrow. "I think you should let them take
care of it, Mulder," she whispered.
"I can't do that! I have to find out for myself! It's got to be
the key. We were so close to finding out what happened after
my father died but we lost everything!" It had been over a
year since his father had died, and her sister too. Both for the
same cause and both in the wrong. "You of all people should
understand that," he said, fighting to hold back the tears.
"I do understand. . . It's just that. . . Well, to put it mildly,
I don't think that we'll find Sam."
"How can you say that?" he asked.
"Mulder--"
"No. Listen, we've got to take this case. You've got to
help me. . ."
"You're not understanding what I'm saying. I'm saying no.
For once, why don't you just accept that! Accept the fact that
I can't follow you around on a case that you'd be stealing from
perfectly competent agents. Mulder, no matter how much it
hurts me to say this, I think it's time to let go. It's time to start
your life again," she said, untucking herself from the chair and
walking over to grasp his hands. "Mulder, for me, for Agents
Callavelo and Grant, let this one go. . .Please?" she nearly
begged.
"I can't, Scully," Mulder said, breaking free from her grip.
"I can't do that. I've got to find out for myself." In the pit of
his stomach he felt he'd been betrayed by the last person he
trusted. He couldn't stay here. "Look, I've got to go."
"Mulder, please. I'm sor--" she began, standing aside as
he abruptly stood.
"Don't apologize, Scully. You've spent the better half of
the evening apologizing. You've told me how you really feel,
now I've got to accept that and move on," he said, grabbing
his coat which he'd shed and placed on a chair beside the
entrance. He reached the front door, yanked it open and
stepped out into the hallway.
"Mulder! Let me explain!" she cried as his footsteps
echoed down the hallway. He did not turn around to glance
back.
Dana Scully slammed the door shut, kicking herself for
destroying any hope that she had of keeping Mulder out of the
case. If anything she'd made it worse and she'd perhaps
destroyed any trust they had shared. She hadn't realized it, but
tears of hot anger were streaming down her face. She hadn't
meant to ruin a perfectly fine evening.
She cursed herself, walking into the kitchen and pulling out
a shot glass. A shot of her favorite liqueur would hopefully
dull some of the pain. Perhaps enough to sleep.
-----
September 2, 1996
8:15 AM
Mickey watched the clouds float lazily by as he fought to
keep himself awake. Airplanes always lulled him to sleep.
The view out the window wasn't helping much, however.
Finally he decided it was hopeless to even bother trying. He
shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He breathed
heavily. Beside him, Chloe afforded him a look. He could feel
her eyes on him. He smiled, then turned his head toward her,
opening his eyes.
"Problem?" he asked, gently.
"Uh, not that I know of," she said, a slight blush coming to
her cheeks as she looked quickly away. He smiled, closing his
eyes again and attempting to get more comfortable. "Actually--"
His eyes snapped open.
"What?"
"I've been thinking about this case. . ." she trailed off, biting
her lower lip.
"What about it?" he asked, sitting up. Perhaps she'd be
able to keep him awake.
"Well, Mulder seemed a lot more interested in the case than
he was letting on."
"And what has that got to do with anything?"
"Doesn't that seem odd to you? Shouldn't he be more
worried about his current position than what we're up to?"
"Old habits die hard?"
"Come on, I'm being serious. I think he wants this case."
"He's not a field agent anymore."
"It doesn't matter."
"Sure it does," Mickey was beginning to feel a little
annoyed at her line of thought. If Mulder had wanted their
case, he would have asked for it, or reassigned it. "What
you're suggesting doesn't make sense. Why would he want
our case anyway? He's probably sick of the X-Files by now."
Mickey shrugged, looking out the window.
"You're not understanding what I'm saying. Fox Mulder
took care of the X-Files for years. I think you were partly
right about old habits dying hard, but I think there's more to
it." She sighed, dropping the subject at Mickey's obvious
denial.
"Let me ask you a question," he said, looking into her
azure eyes. She nodded, matching his gaze. "Do you think
we're going to get along at all?"
"Oh come on! I thought we already went over this! I think
we're just going to have to adjust. I have the perfect idea!
You'll have to wait to find out though. . ." she said, giving him
the most mischievous smile he'd ever seen.
"Okay, I'm sorry. It's just that every time one of us
mentions something we end up arguing," he said quietly.
"That's what being partners is all about," she smiled,
patting his shoulder gently. She leaned forward and whispered
in his ear. "Besides, you're cute. I wouldn't give you up for
the world." With that he felt his cheeks burn as the blood
flowed to his face. He inched away. She smiled at making
him uncomfortable and he realized he'd made yet another
mistake. He'd revealed another part of himself to her ever
watchful eye.
he chided himself. He sighed, swearing he would get her
back. He wasn't comfortable at having her make even playful
passes at him, but he would definitely have something ready
for her the next time.
-----
Washington, DC
Offices of Fox Mulder
9:30 AM
"Good morning, Tracy. Is Mulder in the office?" Dana
Scully asked his assistant. She shifted nervously from foot to
foot, not sure how Mulder would react that she had come
here, after having upset him so badly last night. She felt
terrible about it and had hoped to make amends by telling him
that she would help him out, despite any misgivings she had
about it.
"I'm sorry, Agent Scully. Agent Mulder just left to catch a
flight to South Carolina," the brunette answered.
"Dammit!" Scully cursed, winning a startled look from
Tracy. "Sorry, it's just that I need to speak with him. How
long ago did you say he left?"
"About an hour ago. His flight was for ten o'clock this
morning," Scully cursed again, silently.
"Thanks," she said, before turning on her heel and quickly
leaving. She rushed away, meanwhile pulling out her
cellular phone. She impatiently waited for the elevator, dialing
Mulder's number.
"You have reached the Motex cellular phone system. We
are sorry to say that the client you are currently trying to reach
is not available. Please hang--" Scully growled, pushing the
END button on the telephone and placing it back into her
pocket. She checked her watch and found that she only had a
half an hour to find Mulder.
When she reached the airport, Scully rushed into the
terminal, keeping her eyes open for Mulder. She made her
way to the ticket booth and purchased a ticket for South
Carolina using her VISA. She stationed herself near the exit
gate for their flight and it wasn't long before Mulder wandered
around the corner. He didn't see her until she stepped in front
of him, holding her hand out.
"Scully," he sighed, looking away. "I don't really want to
talk to you right now."
"I know, Mulder. I have to say this though. You're right, I
think this case is important. I considered it all night last night
and I decided that we better take a look at it," she said,
putting her hand on his chest. He still would not look at her.
It was almost as if he hadn't heard her. "Listen to me, Mulder.
I know I hurt you last night, but you have to understand my
viewpoint as well."
"If you came here to stop me. . ." he said, raising his eyes
and finally locking her in a painful stare. She held it.
"I'm going with you," she said quietly. His face softened
and he regarded her carefully.
"No, you're not," he said.
"Don't you dare argue with me. I fought with myself all
night about this and nothing you can say is going to stop me
from going with you," she said, putting both her hands on his
shoulders. His stern look slowly faded to one of happiness.
"But first, I need your forgiveness, Mulder. I shouldn't have
said a lot of the things I did, and I know that it's going to hurt
for a long time now, but I need to know that you've forgiven
me."
"You know, Scully," he whispered, his face close to hers.
"It's awfully difficult to hate your best friend longer than a
day." He smiled, weakly. "I've had some time to think about
it too, and I think I was wrong to get as upset as I did. You're
forgiven."
She smiled with relief and on the spur of the moment
reached up and enveloped him in a quick hug. He hugged
back, pulling her close to him. He released her a short time
later, glancing down at her.
"Where's your luggage?" he asked, knowing that she'd
decided to go with him. She smiled, holding up her VISA.
"Right here," she said, putting it into her wallet and patting
it softly. He laughed and began to walk towards the exit, as
the final call for their departure flight rattled over the system.
-----
Orangeburg, South Carolina
12:00 noon
Finding Orangeburg had been easy. The town was right off
Interstate 26 going south from Columbia. Finding the police
station was another matter. It soon became apparent to Chloe
that Mickey would have difficulty finding his way out of a
paper bag.
"I suppose it would crush your male ego to stop at a gas
station and ask directions," she hinted, not really wanting to
upset him, but getting pretty upset herself. "We told the Chief
of Police we'd be there half an hour ago when I called him
from the airport."
Mickey shot her a glare. "I'm sure he'll wait. It's not like
we're keeping them from dinner or anything," he told her.
"Besides, these small towns all look alike to me. I can never
figure out where they hide the police station."
"You might try the building across from the post office and
next to the fire station," Chloe suggested helpfully. Sure
enough, the sign out front proclaimed the police station of
Orangeburg. She smiled innocently at him. He shook his head
in disgust.
"Okay, Agent Smartypants, next time, YOU drive in the
small towns," he grumbled. She smiled triumphantly.
"Don't worry, Mickey. I'm sure you do SOME things
VERY well," she teased and had to stifle a giggle at his
immediate blush. This was too much fun to be true.
The small police station was fairly typical. The dispatcher
sat at a desk in the corner, a receptionist sat at a desk in the
front. No bullet proof glass, no indication of high traffic in the
dregs of society. Just an office. Off to the back was a door
proclaiming "Chief". Mickey walked up to the receptionist, an
older heavy set black woman with warm eyes and a big smile,
and he introduced them.
"Hello, Ms. . ." he checked the nameplate on the desk. It
said 'Rosy'. "Ah, Rosy. We're Agents Callavelo and Grant,
with the FBI. We're here to see. . ."
Rosy cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Y' all here to
see Charlie. I'll git him." She turned in her chair and put a
hand to her mouth. "Char-LIE, the F B I is here," she
shouted. "Finally," she added, under her breath. Then she
looked up at Mickey and Chloe. "He'll be right with you," she
smiled.
The door in the back swung open and a tall black man in
his mid thirties came out with a scowl on his face. "Aunt
Rosy, when are you going to learn how to use that intercom I
got you for Christmas?" he grumbled. He only needed to take
a couple of strides to reach them. Eyeing them both, he held
out his hand. "I'm Charlie Russell, Chief of Police. You must
be Callavelo and Grant." He looked each agent in the eye as
he said their names. Chloe noticed that he got it right, the first
time. "C'mon into my office. Aunt Rosy, git us some of that
coffee you made me buy this morning. And this time, lay off
the chicory!"
Once seated in the office, Chief Russell pulled out a file
from the standing file on his desk. He sighed heavily and
handed it over to the agents. "I sent all this up to DC, but
here's the original. I gotta tell you, this is the first time I've
been up against a serial killer. I mean, I took that 6 weeks
course up in Virginia when I got this job, but I never thought
we'd have to deal with that in Orangeburg. I know a lot of
cops don't like having the FBI messing in their pastures, but
I'm damn glad to see you two and I intend to cooperate in any
way I can."
"All six of the children came from the area," Chloe noted.
She had read the files so many times she could quote them, but
she wanted a place to start. "Any idea if they are connected in
any way--aside from the. . ."
"The blood," Russell cut in. "Well, yeah, there is a
connection. Each of those kids came from a foster home. Not
the same foster home, mind you. They were all wards of the
state of South Carolina. Couple of them, the 13 year old,
Nancy Kohl, and the 10 year old, Jaime Porter, they were
orphans. The others were just. . .abandoned."
"Had they lived in Orangeburg all their lives?" Mickey
asked, taking notes.
"Nah. They come from Columbia, Greenville, Spartanburg,
Charleston. Most of them probably had druggies for mamas.
The state got 'em when they were little and never allowed 'em
to be adopted. Damned shame, too. Poor little guys were just
throw aways in the system. Never had a chance." He stared
off into space for a moment.
"Did the children 'interact' in anyway? Go to the same
school, perhaps?" Chloe asked.
"There's only one school in town, Agent Grant. It's got
Kindergarten to High School. But aside from being in the
same school, there wasn't any 'interaction' that I could find.
None of 'em were in any clubs, 4-H or the like. None of 'em
were that smart, though little Nancy was in the church choir.
She had a voice sweet as honey, that one. Other than that,
they went to school, some rode buses home, some walked.
No patterns that I could find. They didn't even follow the
same routes to school." He looked closely at Chloe. "You're
thinking it might be somebody at the school?"
"We have to look at all the possibilities, Chief. There is a
lot of documentation of cases where a school employee, a
janitor or such, has committed crimes against the children
there. I understand the last two victims are still at the morgue.
Do you think we could go over there and see them?" Chloe
asked.
Russell checked his watch. "Doc Marburg usually takes his
lunch about one. He's the coroner. Mebbe Aunt Rosy can
catch him." He reached over to his phone and punched a
button. "Aunt Rosy, git Doc on the phone. These folks want
to see the bodies."
Mickey and Chloe both had to suppress grins when the
shouted answer came back a few minutes later. "Meet him at
the clinic in 10 minutes, Charlie," Rosy hollered through the
closed door. Russell shook his head in disgust. "Can't teach
an old dog. . ." he muttered.
The ride to the coroner's office was short, just four blocks.
Chloe couldn't help but notice the look of apprehension on
Mickey's face. "You okay, there Mick?" she asked, not sure
what could be bothering him. "Is it the case?" she asked,
before he had the chance to answer the first questions.
Mickey squirmed in his seat. "Not exactly," he replied,
avoiding her eyes. He was silent for a minute before he spoke
again. "You might as well learn this now as later. I'm not
exactly, well, 'comfortable' around dead bodies," he admitted.
"What do you mean, 'comfortable'?" Chloe asked, a bit
concerned.
"I, ah, sort of, ah, lose things," he answered,
cryptically.
"Lose things? What sort of things?" Chloe asked again.
"Oh, you know, my cookies, consciousness, stuff like that,"
he said so softly she had to strain to hear him.
Chloe put her hand up to hide her giggles. "How on earth
did you make it through the Academy, then?"
"Well, the first class, I was carried out. The second class,
the teacher had to be carried out. Seems he was great with
dead bodies but had difficulty with stomach contents of the
living. After that, I sort of got excused," he nodded as the
memory replayed in his mind.
Chloe couldn't hold it any longer. Now she was laughing
out loud. "Which teacher?" she gasped between breaths.
"Raffle."
Her eyes lit up. "You mean *you* were the one they were
talking about. . ." and dissolved in giggles again.
"It's not like I'm proud of it or anything! And I was really
worried for a while. I thought it was the boot, you know. But
I found out later that I'm okay at crime scenes. I just can't
handle it when they, you know, weigh stuff and crack stuff and
poke around and rearrange. . ." he let his voice trail off and
was already turning pale at the thoughts running through his
mind.
Chloe finally caught her breath and reached out. "Hey, tell
you what. You talk to the coroner, go stand in the hall, do
what ever you need to, okay? I'll handle the open bodies." He
shot her a look that told her he wasn't fond of that idea. "Mick,
don't sweat it. I *like* this stuff. I wish I had gone to medical
school, like Scully, you know. I just didn't have the patience, I
guess. But I don't think it a good idea to *not* look at the
bodies they have, you understand?" He nodded in agreement
and looked relieved.
The morgue was in a small back room of the doctor's
office. It seemed fairly well equipped, for a town the size of
Orangeburg. Mickey leaned gracefully against the far wall
while Chloe and Dr. Marburg opened the door to the
refrigeration unit in the wall and pulled out the sliding metal
drawer that held the body. Even from that distance, Mickey
groaned inwardly. He had seen dead bodies, but this one was
so. . .small. It was the first time he had been this close to the
body of a child victim, and it was disturbing in its own right.
Chloe was disturbed, too, but on several levels. It bothered
her that the victim was a child. She had always considered
those to be the worst. But as she spoke with the doctor, other
things caught her eye. This child had been murdered, but she
hadn't been that well to begin with. She was painfully thin.
The ribs along her sides showed clearly through the thin layer
of skin. And her eyes were sunken, and not just from the
violent death. Chances were real good that this child might
not have made it to adulthood regardless of the senseless act
that terminated her life. Chloe's stomach made a leap to her
throat as she thought of that.
The cause of death was grotesquely apparent. The throat
was slit from one ear to the other. Beyond that, there were no
marks on the body, no sign of struggle, no sexual abuse.
Someone came up behind this little girl and slit her throat and
she probably never knew what happened. Chloe shut her eyes
for a moment in gratitude for this small measure of mercy.
When she opened her eyes, she realized Dr. Marburg was
speaking.
" . . .in a vial over here," he was saying, moving over to a
small refrigerator in the corner of the room and removing a
small test tube like vial. He handed it to Chloe, who held it up
to the light. "Every drop of blood in her body was like that.
At first, I thought the guy might have tried to embalm her. I
couldn't figure it out. Then, once I got into the autopsy, I
realized there was no indication of damage to the veins or
arteries. That substance, whatever it is, was there all along. I
sent a sample up to Columbia to the University for them to
analyze, but I haven't heard back yet."
"We'd like to send some up to our labs, in DC, if you don't
mind," Mickey said, finally letting his growing curiosity
overcome his hesitation to get closer to the body. He walked
over to Chloe and she handed him the vial. In the sunlight
streaming in through the single high window, the substance
seemed to glow. Mickey stood, transfixed by the green liquid.
Chloe touched him lightly on the arm to bring him back.
"Well, I think I've seen enough here," she said to him. She
turned to the doctor, "Thank you, Dr. Marburg. We may be
calling on you again, if that's all right?"
"Any time, my dear, any time. I wish I knew what
happened here, what's been happening. This is a quiet little
town and these murders. . .well, they have folks pretty shook
up. I just want you to catch the person responsible and let us
get on with our lives."
The scene of the murder was some eight miles out of town,
on a hilly stretch of road not accessible by the main highway.
Mickey drove, as much to give himself something to do with
his hands as anything else. Chloe watched him, sensing that
something in his mind was sorting, trying to work with the
pieces of the puzzle they were being fed one at a time. Her
own mind kept trailing back to the body of that small girl, so
frail and sickly. There was no mention of abuse in the file, but
Chloe wasn't so sure that might not have been an oversight.
The girl looked like she was on the verge of malnutrition.
As they reached the sight that Chief Russell had described,
the yellow crime tape guided them to the exact spot. Mickey
was out of the car in a flash, pulling on rubber gloves as he
walked, determined, over the low undergrowth. All around
them towered old growth trees, majestic in their height and
power. Chloe took a quick minute to change shoes and then
hurried to catch up with her partner.
Mickey had taken on an entirely different persona. He
reminded Chloe of a bloodhound. He he seemed to be almost
sniffing out the evidence. Not a single leaf escaped his
examination. He carefully avoided the areas he knew had been
trampled by the local officials. He moved the yellow tape to
go beyond the cordoned-off area and try and reconstruct the
murder in his own mind.
Chloe watched him for five full minutes, then couldn't resist
the urge to giggle.
"Something funny, Agent Grant?" Mickey asked
sarcastically, without even looking up from the dirt he was
examining.
"I was just wondering when you were going to start
chewing on the tree bark, to see if it had been affected," she
shot back. "You aren't going to find anything, you know."
"Oh, I guess autopsy wasn't the only class I missed at the
Academy. There must have been one on reading crystal balls,
too?" he countered.
"No, I just don't think we're going to find anything out
here. It's been too long and there have been too many people
tramping on the evidence. If you find anything, it will be the
print off a good deputy's boot, by my guess," Chloe said
nonchalantly.
Mickey was still inspecting the base of a tree not ten feet
from where the body was found. He stubbed at something
with his toe, then bent over and picked it up. It was a button,
metal on plastic, with the US Navy insignia on it. It was fairly
new and still shone in the late afternoon sunlight. "Don't think
I've ever seen one of these on a boot," he commented, gingerly
picking up the button and placing it in an evidence bag. He
gave it to Chloe to examine. "But you're right, we might as
well go on back to the hotel," he added, making a bee line for
the car, leaving her to stare at his back in mild confusion.
-----
Orangeburg, South Carolina
Queen's Motel
2:32 PM
Dana Scully stepped eagerly out of the rented sedan. She
had been sitting still for over an hour while Mulder tried to
navigate the small town's poorly laid out roads. It also didn't
help that they didn't have a road map. Mulder had forgotten to
get one in his haste to get there. However, they had finally
arrived and Scully was glad, she hated sitting in the car,
especially when Mulder insisted that he drive. She let out an
exasperated sigh, observing the motel before them.
The older building looked as though it would fall apart the
minute someone touched it. To begin with, it was just an old
house which had been converted into a motel for visitors that
would only be staying for short terms. The shingles on the
roof looked as though they needed to be replaced, the white
paint on the front of the house peeling and blistered probably
from the constant exposure to intense sunshine, even the door
looked about to fall off it's hinges.
"Don't judge a book by its cover," Mulder said with a
grin on his face, as he came around the car to join her. He
must've read the slight scowl on her face.
"Oh, I won't. Are you sure this is the place? It hardly
looked like this in the brochure," she said, teasing him about
his choice of lodging. Mulder shrugged and tugged on her
sleeve, causing her to follow him in.
Inside she was shocked. Everything looked brand new and
polished. The small reception area was set to the right of the
entrance. To the left was a lobby that seemed cozy, a fireplace
and bookshelf lining the wall. Scully was awed despite herself.
She followed Mulder as he stepped up to the reception desk,
pulling out his wallet.
The woman, whose gray hair and clouded blue eyes
reminded Scully of her grandmother, smiled up at them.
"Kin I git you two a special suite?" she asked, casually
mistaking their relationship. Mulder laughed, earning a stern
look from Scully. Scully shook her head vigorously and the
woman nodded. she
thought to herself, then wondered where that thought had
come from. She didn't continue the line
of thought, but instead turned to Mulder, while speaking to the
woman.
"Actually we'd like two separate rooms, please," she said,
eyeing Mulder to see if she could catch a reaction. He only
nodded in agreement, keeping all expressions from crossing his
face.
"Okee, then. Here ya go. Will that be caysh or credit?"
the woman said and for the first time Scully noticed her
accent. She reached into her coat for her wallet, which
contained her VISA, but Mulder put a hand on her arm,
producing his first.
"Credit," he said, grinning and handed her his card. Scully
shrugged, hoping Mulder wasn't going to charge it to the FBI,
but then she remembered that he couldn't. They were here on
unofficial terms. After the woman got his signature, she
handed them both keys and smiled, a lopsided toothless smile.
"Third door to the right for the young lady and for you,
sir," she nodded down the hallway. "Fourth door to the right,"
she said, smiling. Scully almost had an odd feeling that the
woman was trying to set them up. She shook her head as she
walked behind Mulder, heading to their rooms.
-----
Orangeburg, South Carolina
Crime Scene
1:47 PM
"I'm driving," Chloe said, snatching the keys to the rental
car before Mickey could object. He didn't seem to care,
though. She smiled, thinking finally she wouldn't have to be
bored out of her skull. Mickey nodded absently as he turned
the button over and over in his hand. She shook her head,
wondering what he could be thinking. She waved a hand in
front of his face.
"Yeah, fine," he said.
Chloe shook her head, laughing. He looked up as she
unlocked the driver's side of the door and slipped in behind the
wheel.
When Mickey got into the car, she made a big show of
adjusting the seat to make due for their height differences.
Mickey looked at her, frowning at her unsuccessful attempt at
intimidation. She sighed, adjusting the mirror.
"Mick, talk to me. What's going on in that ole noggin' o'
yers?" she asked, tapping lightly on his forehead and using the
accent of the townspeople. He looked up at her again,
shrugging.
"It's what it looks like, a military button. But I wonder
what it has to do with anything. I suppose we'll have to check
it out, but for right now I need to get to the motel to relax.
It's been a hell of a trip and I'm sure we'll get a better start
after a bit of rest."
"You said it!" she said, starting the car and gently
putting it into drive. She didn't want to scare Mickey on his
first time witnessing her driving skill. She was actually a
cautious driver, which some of her friends had commented
didn't fit her personality. They'd always assumed that she
would be a reckless driver, however her slate was clear,her with
excellent insurance rates. Not that it mattered, the FBI covered
the costs anyway.
Mickey was silent for the better part of the drive, holding
the button as though it were the key to his heart. Chloe
sighed, wishing he was more of a conversationalist. Finally
she couldn't handle it any more.
"So, tell me a little about yourself," she said, affording a
quick glance sideways at his handsome face.
"There's not much to tell," he said, shrugging and finally
setting the button down on the dash. He put his head back
against the seat and took a deep breath. "I grew up in
Chicago. My dad was a cop for the Chicago PD, and an
Italian at that. My mother was Irish. It was pretty tough, I
mean, living as an Italian in the Irish part of Chicago wasn't
the worst of it, it was being a copper's son that was the
difficult part. I went to a Catholic school then moved up to
Loyola University for my bachelor's in sociology and a masters
in Social Work. After that, I entered the Mundelein Seminary--"
he stopped, she was laughing at him.
"The Seminary?" she asked between giggles.
"What's so funny?" His pride had been hurt. She
immediately stopped, feeling bad that she'd laughed. It wasn't
that she thought joining the Seminary was bad, it was just that
he didn't seem to be the type.
"I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to--" she began.
"No matter, I didn't stick around for ordination. Joined the
FBI instead and here I am," he grumbled.
"I see," she said, growing totally somber. She nodded and
a dark red came to her cheeks. She'd managed to insult him
once again and for some reason she felt really bad.
"So, what's your story?" he asked, staring at her. He
seemed a little less bothered now. she thought, then smiled.
"I don't have a story."
"No story? Wow. Not as exciting of a person as I at first
had thought," he said, smiling. She looked at him again and
nodded. She deserved that.
"Fine. I'll tell you my *story*. I was born in Orlando,
Florida. I had an all American family. I was spoiled rotten and
I got away with a lot. Learned how to manipulate people so
that I'd always get my way," she said, glancing at him. She
found he was listening intently, his eyes partially closed. He
looked exhausted.
"So anyway," she continued. "I went to a normal All-
American public school, then moved on to attend Clemson
University, here in South Carolina, majoring in Computer
Studies and minoring in forensics. I felt that the FBI would be
a good way in order to use my capabilities to the fullest and I
joined right away," she said, pushing a hand through her blond
hair.
"Sounds like it was fun," he commented, rather
sarcastically.
"You bet it was," she said, nodding as she glanced at the
road. She'd been driving for a while now. She looked over
the road and sighed. "Uh, Mickey, did I miss the turn?" she
asked, glancing at him. Suddenly he sat up straight and
looked around.
"I think so," he said, shrugging. Then he added, "Trust a
woman to mess up the directions."
Chloe had been about to say something, but that was his
pay back for her comment about the Seminary. She snarled
playfully at him, then sighed.
"Alright, well I guess I better turn around," she grumbled,
gently turning the wheel and making a U-turn in the middle of
the deserted rural road. Pressing the gas, she felt the car surge
forward, then she eased up a bit. She heard the car rev again
and felt it gain speed. "What the hell!?" she gasped, causing
Mickey to look over at her worriedly. His eyes widened as he
watched the speedometer climb steadily. Chloe took her foot
of the gas completely, applying the brakes as she did so.
"What's going on?" Mickey asked, startled. He checked
his seat belt and frowned, grabbing the handle on the door.
"I'll be damned if I know. The only thing I know is that I
can't stop the car. We're picking up speed and I have no
brakes," she said, a little worried. She could feel the gravel of
the road pulling at the wheel as the car raced past the sixty
mark.
"Chloe!" Mickey screamed, his face contorted into a
grimace.
"Well, at least I know you won't be able to handle roller
coasters," she said, not taking her eyes off the road.
"This is no time to joke," he said through clenched teeth.
Chloe nodded in agreement, her head racing for a way out.
Suddenly the wheel yanked viciously to the right as they hit
a bit of loose gravel.
"Hang on!" she cried as the car headed for the ditch. Chloe
could honestly admit that she was definitely scared. The last thing
she noticed in the blur of the spinning car, was a large tree
looming before them.
-----
2:32 PM
Mickey Callavelo stirred out of the blackness. He felt
something snagged on his shirt and wondered what the hell
was going on. He groaned, attempting to open his eyes. They
were glued shut by a sticky substance. He wanted to cry out
but his throat was constricted in fear. He coughed, spitting
out a slight metallic taste. His lungs burned and his chest hurt.
As far as he could tell, nothing else was wrong.
He tried once more to pry open his eyes, this time ungluing
them with a sickening pop. He grimaced as the sunlight
assaulted his sensitive eyes. He blinked them a few times to
clear the remaining junk out, adjusting to the sunlight. He
moaned once more. Then the rest of the feeling came back to
his body and he cried out in pain. He moved his head a little
so he could see.
He was hanging upside down in the car, held in place by
the seat belt. He tried desperately to remember what had
happened and within a few seconds mostly all of it flooded
back into his clouded brain. Chloe had been driving... The car
wouldn't stop... He remembered now. Gingerly testing his
muscles, making sure nothing was broken, he was glad to
discover only a few bruised things. He glanced around a bit
more, while feeling for the seat belt release. It was awkward,
as he was hanging in an odd position. He found the release
and clicked it off, crying in anger as he instantly dropped.
Squirming around a bit, he managed to get himself into a
position to kick the battered door. He eased himself out
through the shattered window, trying not to lodge any of the
glass in his already tender skin. Once outside, he stumbled to
the ground, laying in the ditch face down. He fought with
waves of nausea, knowing that he needed to find out if Chloe
was alright. He groaned, pushing himself to his hands and
knees, his head aching tremendously.
Somehow, he found his way around to the driver's side
of the car. He was shocked to find that it was almost
completely flattened.
"Chloe?" he cried, fumbling in his jacket for his
cellular phone. He numbly dialed 911 with his bloody fingers,
holding the phone shakily to his ear. Finally the operator
answered.
"This is FBI Agent Mickey Callavelo, I've just been in a
serious car accident and I need assistance right away," he
managed calmly. He listened for a moment as the operator
asked him a question. "I'm sorry, I don't know where I am,
you're going to have to trace my cell phone," he said, then he
threw the phone down, inspecting the car for any signs of
Chloe. He needed to know if she was all right.
Before long, however, the blackness enshrouded him again,
causing him to sink into unconsciousness. He managed once
more to call her name before he succumbed completely.
------
Orangeburg, South Carolina
3:15 PM
Fox Mulder sat in the passenger seat, tapping his finger on
the arm rest beside him. He and Scully were on the way to the
crime scene and Scully had insisted that she drive. Mulder had
agreed, figuring she might hurt him if he didn't. He grinned as
she cast a confused look at him.
"Mulder, did I miss the turn?" she asked, glancing in the
rear view mirror. Mulder glanced down at the map the sheriff
had drawn, which was in his lap.
"Uh, I don't know," he said, picking it up. He couldn't tell
what was what.
"That's because it's upside down, idiot," she said, laughing.
Mulder smiled at her remark, turning it right side up.
"You should talk, idiot! You're the one who missed the
turn," he retorted, but Scully wasn't listening, her gaze was
transfixed on something in the distance. Mulder followed it
and discovered a bunch of vehicles-- police cars and
ambulances-- further up the dirt road.
"Wonder what's going on," she mumbled, as she sped up.
"Maybe we can help out."
"I doubt it. They look like they're doing a pretty good
job," he said, sighing. Scully shrugged, pulling the car to a
stop several feet away, to be sure they wouldn't be in the way.
Both of them stepped out, Scully instantly reached into her
coat for her badge as one of the officers came over.
"Good afternoon folks, I'm sorry but--" he began but Scully
smiled, holding her badge under his nose.
"FBI," she declared in a serious tone. "I'm Agent Scully
and this is Agent Mulder. I'm a doctor, can I offer any
assistance?" she asked, observing as the officer's jaw dropped
and he looked relieved.
"No ma'am. There's nothing you can help with, however
I'm glad you two are here," he said, nodding for them to
follow. Mulder deftly stepped around the car and followed the
officer and Scully to the sight. He looked it over. It looked
like a pretty bad crash had occurred. The car was flipped on
its roof, the entire driver's side crushed in. The front end was
also condensed, apparently having hit the huge tree before
them. He was wide eyed as he watched the police and
firemen working with large metal cutters to open the driver's
side door.
"What's going on?" Scully asked, concern written on her
face. Mulder thought that perhaps she felt the strange aura he
was feeling.
"Well, you two are FBI? Seems that we have two other
agents. A man by the name of Michael Callavelo and the
woman, trapped in there is Chloe Grant," the deputy said.
Scully gasped.
"Are they alright?" Mulder heard her ask in a
frightened tone.
"Mr. Callavelo is fine, a mild concussion and a few scrapes
and bruises. As for Ms. Grant, we couldn't tell you. You can
see we're still trying to get her out. She is alive however, she's
been talking deliriously on and off," the officer said, looking
sadly at the door.
"What happened?" Mulder asked, wondering how Grant
could have gotten into an accident. He knew it wasn't
impossible but FBI agents usually had pretty good control
over their vehicles.
"Mr. Callavelo says the car must've been sabotaged. We're
going to look into it as soon as Ms. Grant has been evacuated
and taken to the hospital," the officer shrugged.
"Can we see Mickey?" Scully asked, hoping she could talk
to him.
"He's already been taken to emergency just to be sure that
he'll be all right. Anyway, if you'd like to go to the hospital
that would be okay, because we have a lot of work to do here
and I don't mean any disrespect, but it'll be easier if you two
aren't getting in the way," he said, his tone sorrowful but
commanding. Mulder nodded, putting a hand on Scully's arm.
She was engrossed in watching the men working at getting the
car door off.
Mulder wondered why she seemed so worried about Grant,
but he guessed that she had just grown attached to her, even in
such a short time. He could understand, he'd felt the same
attachment to Scully when she first joined him with the X-Files
four years ago.
"Let's go see Mickey," he said softly. She nodded, turning
just as quickly and heading back to the car. She tossed Mulder
the keys and sank into the passenger's seat. Mulder mumbled
another thanks to the officer before getting in the car and
pulling away from the horrid scene.
-----
Orangeburg, South Carolina
County Hospital
8:12 PM
She was sitting on the bed, rubbing her hands together,
when he entered the room. A scowl on her face. She looked
up when she realized he was standing there looking at her.
"Mickey, how nice of you to come and see me," she said,
smiling. He nodded, looking over her. Her hair was still in
tangles, covered in dirt and sweat. She obviously hadn't had a
chance to do fix her appearance. Not that it mattered to him,
he was just her partner, concerned for her well being.
Mickey shrugged, stepping closer to the bed. "How're you
feeling?" he asked, standing beside the bed and gazing at her, a
thoughtful expression crossing his face.
"Like I've just driven a car into a huge tree," she said,
rubbing her head. Mickey smiled, amused that she was making
jokes. "Beside that, I think I've faired pretty well," she
mumbled, sliding off the bed to stand uneasily. Mickey lunged
forward, but she waved a hand, stopping him.
"I'd say so," he said, standing away again, trying to give her
some space. "So, you've just got a few bumps and bruises,
huh? I'm surprised."
"A few bumps and bruises? And a broken finger," she held
up the bandaged pinky finger, which he hadn't noticed. "And a
mild concussion. I hear you came out pretty close too, huh?"
she said, smiling. Even when she had been hurt, she was using
her humor to lighten the situation. Mickey was impressed. He
shrugged again.
"Yeah. I'm just glad you're not hurt. By the way, Mulder
and Scully showed up," he said, his expression turning
puzzled. "You didn't ask them to come, did you?" he asked.
Chloe shook her head, then grimaced, waves of nausea flowing
through her body. She sat down on the edge of the bed again
and waited for them to pass.
"I didn't ask, but I knew Mulder would come. I am kind of
surprised to learn that Agent Scully came with him. . ." she said,
resting her head in her hands.
"You should rest. I'll come back later," he said, turning to
leave.
"Wait! You can't leave me here. I don't want to stay here,"
she whined. He turned to her and released a grin.
"Tough. This is one time in your life that you aren't going
to get what you want," he said, opening the door and exiting
into the quiet hallway beyond.
Chloe Grant sat on the bed, angrily wondering why Mickey
wouldn't let her go with him, but she supposed it wasn't up to
him. If he could have, he probably would have let her go back
to the motel. She sighed, swinging her feet up and resting
back against the pillow, wondering how long she'd have to
stay here. It wasn't as if she were dying or in critical
condition, it was just a few minor injuries.
She paused on that thought, wondering what had really
happened. The car had definitely been sabotaged, but she
couldn't-- no matter how hard she tried-- come up with a good
reason for it. It wasn't as if they had any solid leads, which
might turn up something, causing someone to want to kill
them. She groaned, pushing the thoughts out of her head.
She needed to get some rest. The pounding in her head
persisted, causing her to wish she'd never survived.
-----
Scully closed the door quietly behind her and almost
bumped directly into the tall figure standing in the hall.
"Mulder!" she hissed, annoyed. "You scared me half to
death! I thought you were on the phone to the mechanics."
"I was. I'm finished. How's Callavelo?" he asked, taking
her elbow and leading her down toward their rooms.
"Banged up, exhausted. Asleep, at the moment. I must
say, Mulder, he's a bit more resilient than others I could
name," she grinned at him. "He's got a nice sized knot on his
head and two bruised ribs. A mild concussion, but not enough
to keep him awake for the night. They wanted to keep him
but he talked them out of it. Unlike Chloe, he's been awake
and alert since the paramedics showed up. I gave him some
Tylenol and he crashed like baby. I should check on him later,
just to make sure he's okay."
"So, how much do we charge for baby-sitting these two,
Scully? A buck fifty and hour just doesn't seem sufficient,
somehow." Mulder unlocked his door and waved her in. She
walked into the room, identical to her own, and sat at the small
cherry desk by the window. The room was in line with the
lobby, cheery, nice decor, comfortable. All the money spent
on this hotel seemed to have gone toward the interior
decoration and certainly not the outside maintenance.
"So what did the mechanic say," she said, ignoring his
comments. "What happened to that car?"
"And what makes you think our young Agent Grant didn't
just fancy herself as Bobby Unser at Indy?" he asked
derisively. She gave him The Look and he nodded. "You're
right, of course. Accelerator was set to jam at 55 mph. The
brake lines had a trip mechanism that caused them to fail at
about the same time. Sort of like the bomb on 'Speed', if
you're into the romance of Hollywood. There was no way she
could have avoided a crack up. They're just lucky they made it
out alive."
"No prints, I presume," she added glumly, toying with the
notepad on the desk.
"Clean as a whistle. Not so much as a fiber, the good Chief
assured me. He's a little upset at the moment. First time he
calls out the Federal Hounds and they almost get killed in his
own backyard."
"So who did this, Mulder? I mean, this was a serial killing
they were investigating. I know the killer probably isn't too
keen on being discovered, but why kill the investigators,
especially when they don't have any leads? Wouldn't that lead
to possible exposure?"
"I don't know, Scully. It has me puzzled, too. It doesn't
seem to fit my profile. . ." he looked over at her and cringed.
He had walked right into that one.
"So, you got bored and decided to write your own profile,
huh, Mulder?" Scully asked, the accusation as sharp as the
daggers in her eyes.
"Scully, back off, huh? I just sort of. . .doodled my way
into a profile. . ."
"Already finished the Sunday Crossword puzzle, I suppose.
Honestly, Mulder, that is not your job, and you know it!" she
stormed.
He swallowed and sat on the edge of the bed. "OK, so
maybe it was out of line. But this one is really eating at me,
Scully. I don't know why, it just won't let me alone. I'm not
messing around in it officially. I just. . ."
"You just flew down here to check up on the agents of
record, wrote a profile separate from the official record, what's
next, Mulder? You going to run off and track the guy down
yourself, then bring him in, ALL BY YOURSELF? I ought to
pack you up and drag you back to DC by the seat of your
pants!" Scully huffed angrily.
"If you want, you can go back to DC. I won't try and stop
you," he said quietly, staring at the floor.
"No, Mulder, that is not what I want," she said, trying to be
patient. "I want you to tell me what is going on here," she
sighed. "One minute you are all hot to move up the Bureau
ladder, get us into new positions, promotions that neither of us
thought possible 6 months ago. Then suddenly, you want to
get back in the action. I feel like I'm at a tennis match, and I'm
the ball! Will you tell me what is going on in that pointed little
head of yours?" She got up from her chair and walked over to
sit next to him on the bed. "Do you hate your new job that
much?" she asked, absently rubbing his shoulders. He closed
his eyes, leaning into her touch. Suddenly, realizing that he
was enjoying this entirely too much, he sat up straighter and
looked at her.
"I don't hate it that much," he protested. "I just. . .Scully,
I just can't help it with this one. I have to be here. I don't
know how else to explain it. I'm not trying to be difficult,
really. I just. . .need to be in on this one. Do you
understand?" He was pleading with her and she couldn't
refuse.
She sat there next to him, not knowing what to say to him.
Finally, she gave him a smile. "I'm here, aren't I?" she
whispered. He reached up and touched her cheek, a gesture
that made her close her eyes for a second before opening them
to regard him.
his mind was yelling at him. it added. He dropped his
hand, but not before he noticed the smallest glint of
disappointment in her eyes. "Hey, I'm starved. There's a diner
a couple of blocks from here. My treat," he said lightly, trying
to move on as quickly as possible.
"Hmmm, let's see. Central South Carolina. Lots of grease,
salt, and cholesterol. Just your speed, Mulder. Sure, let's go,"
she laughed.
The diner was exactly as Scully had predicted, 'home
cooking' which meant bacon grease in everything, but even
Scully had to admit that it tasted pretty good. She ordered
ribs and salad, he had the 'Blue Plate Special' of meat loaf,
mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans with bacon and onions,
and a healthy slice of pecan pie.
"I've got my Pepto Bismol waiting for that to hit your
stomach, at about 2 this morning, probably," she said,
motioning to his overloaded plate with her fork.
"Cast iron, Scully. My stomach is cast iron. This is
nothing," he countered.
"Oh, yeah? Well, for your information, even cast iron has
been know to 'rust' with age, and you, Mulder, are not getting
younger," she teased.
"Nope, I'm just getting better," he teased in return. It felt
so good to be on the road with her again. Times like this,
during a case that was beyond befuddling, having a few
minutes to joke over dinner, that's what he missed about his
new job. That, and being able to look over at her at any time
of the day and just watch her at her desk, typing, writing, lost
in thought. his inner self chided.
"Earth to planet Mulder," she was saying, waving a hand in
front of his face. "You still with me, here, Mulder?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, Scully. My mind was just
wandering," he said with a faint blush. , was actually responding to him in a. . ..
He put his hand up to release her hold on his neck. "I don't
know, Scully. Is this such a good idea?" he asked, his breath
coming in little short gasps that revealed exactly how much of
a good idea *he* had thought it was.
"Mulder, what are you afraid of? We aren't 'partners'
anymore. This isn't forbidden anymore. I've been trying to
figure out why we went through all this promotion crap if you
hadn't thought about this. So what's the problem?" she asked,
getting an annoyed tone to her voice.
He pushed up again, this time she let him. He had a
confused look on his face, like he had just walked through the
looking glass. "You mean, you. . .you thought. . .I mean. .
.Scully. . ." he stammered.
She sat up next to him. "Mulder. Why did you kiss me?"
she demanded.
He looked even more perplexed. "It seemed like a good
thing to do at the time," he admitted, sheepishly.
She chewed on her inner cheek a moment. "It *seemed*
like a good idea, *at the time*," she said forcing the emphasis
on the words between her teeth. "It SEEMED like a good
idea AT THE TIME!" she concluded, getting a bright red flush
to her face. "You have not TOUCHED me in all the years
we've been together and tonight, while trying to get me to give
up a remote control, you kissed me like I have not been kissed
in YEARS because it seemed like a good idea at the time!" she
hissed. "YOU are HOPELESS, Mulder! Totally hopeless."
She was still seething, but she sat a while and just stared at
him. "Mulder, how do you really feel about me?" It wasn't a
question, it was a demand. And he felt completely unprepared
to respond to it.
He closed his eyes and dropped his chin, hoping she
wouldn't hear him. "I love you, Dana," he whispered. "I guess
I've always loved you. But I don't deserve you," he continued,
still not opening his eyes. "You deserve somebody who's sane
and stable and doesn't wake up at all hours of the night with
cold sweats and screams, someone who isn't obsessed with a
search that began over twenty years ago, someone who can
love you and keep you safe and not put you in danger for his
own agenda. That's why it was a good idea at the time, and I
will treasure every second, but it's also why I have to get the
hell back to my room as soon as possible or things are going to
get completely out of hand."
Two small, soft hands encircled his neck again and two
even softer lips gently grazed his. He opened his eyes to gaze
into eyes of the most breathtaking blue. "Too late, Mulder.
Things are completely out of hand already," she murmured,
pulling him down to the bed and this time, he didn't resist.
She pulled him down on bed again, this time moving
slowly, gently. He had a look in his eyes that reminded her of
rabbits in the forest when they realize they are trapped with no
escape. "Mulder, you never did answer me. *What* are you
afraid of?" she whispered. "I promise, I won't get mad. I want
you to tell me, what are you afraid of?"
She was gently caressing his cheek and looking at him with
those eyes that he had come to love and trust so much. He
had to tell her, but he wasn't sure of his reasons himself. "I
don't know, Scully. I'm afraid. . .well, now that we don't really
work together, I'm afraid if we went any further, you'd decide
I wasn't what you're looking for and then we'd drift apart, and.
. .and then I'd lose you." He said the words so softly that it
tore her heart.
"Well, you know, there is another possibility, here. We
could take our relationship a little further, since we're already
friends and we trust each other, and we could actually get
something neither of us have had much experience in," she said
while running her fingers through his hair.
He looked at her, confused. "Something neither of us have
had. . .such as?"
"A life, Mulder. We might just give each other a life," she
said with confidence and leaned over to kiss him. "I love you,
Mulder. And I've missed you. I'm used to seeing you 16 to 18
hours a day and I really miss that. I don't like being apart. If
we can't be together at the office, can't we at least be together
the REST of the time?" She kissed him again, a little deeper,
and it lasted a little longer than the last time. "You really don't
have to be alone, Fox. And neither do I. You just have to
believe."
And finally, like a dam breaking, Fox Mulder drew Dana
into his arms and sighed. "I believe. . ."
The morning broke with sunshine through the window,
making lazy patterns through the lace curtains that cast
shadows on the quilt. Mulder shifted, so he could look down
at the red haired woman sleeping in his arms. He closed his
eyes and sighed contentedly. She stirred and snuggled closer
into his embrace. "Hey, sleepyhead, you gonna wake up
soon?" he chuckled.
"I suppose I have to sometime, huh?" she yawned. "You
know, Mulder, after this case, do you think we could take a
REAL vacation? Someplace where there aren't FBI agents,
local cops, yellow crime tape. . ."
He reached up and ruffled her hair. "What, and miss all
that glamour and excitement? Come on, let's move it. We
have to wake up Callavelo and I need to stop by the front
desk."
"What for?" she asked, slowly extracting herself from his
arms and the covers.
"There is no way I'm paying for two rooms when one
seems to be all we need," he said, searching the covers for his
boxers.
She smiled all the way through her shower.
-----
September 3, 1995
Queen's Motel
8:55 AM
Mickey Callavelo finally knotted his tie, after having
unsuccessfully tried six times. His head hurt a lot, but he was
bound and determined to get this investigation over with so he
could get himself back to Washington. He didn't like the fact
that someone out there had tried to kill his partner and himself.
He was just glad that Chloe wasn't dead, simply because he
was beginning to feel the tendrils of attachment creep around
his heart.
Chloe Grant was the type of woman that wormed her way
into anyone's heart. She was deeply admirable and very
interesting, despite how much he'd tried to deny it. He was
just glad that he hadn't ended up with a total flake as a partner
and he knew he could count on Chloe if he ever got into a
serious crunch. She'd be there for him and he had decided that
no matter what, he'd be there for her too, despite the
arguments they seemed to be having.
He ran a hand through his thick black hair, checking his tie
once more to be sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him and
then walked to the door, picking up his wallet from the table
as he passed. He clipped his gun into its shoulder holster and
took the jacket from the closet. He opened the door and was
startled to find Agent Scully standing there, her fist raised and
ready to knock.
"Oops, sorry," she said. Mickey instantly noticed a strange
grin that was plastered to her face. He would have thought
that if anything, her face would have shown fatigue, but it
didn't. It looked as though she'd slept incredibly well. He
sighed, wishing he could say the same.
"Hey, no problem. I was just coming to wake you two up
anyway. I think I'm going to go over to see if they'll let me
have Grant back. I know she's suffering miserably in there,"
he said, stepping out into the hallway beside her and allowing
the door to close and automatically lock. She nodded, then
smiled again.
"Okay. Well, I think Mulder and I have some things to
take care of. How about we meet you at the hospital in a half
an hour?"
"Good idea. See you then."
-----
County Hospital
"Hey," he said as he walked into the hospital room. He
noticed that Chloe Grant's appearance had changed completely
since yesterday. She'd showered and had gotten all the dirt
out of her hair. He was glad, because now she looked pretty
normal except for a small cut that ran down the side of her
cheek.
"It's about time, homey!" she said, standing up and
smiling at him. He was surprised at the amount of energy she
appeared to have.
"Have they got you on some sort of wonder drug?"
"Nah, the pain is still there. I'm just trying to appear as
though it's not bothering me," she said, smiling. "Besides, I
had to fool the doctors into letting me out of here. So, let's
get out of here before they decide they want to keep me!"
"Not so fast. Mulder and Scully are coming here in about
twenty minutes. I guess they want to talk to you, find out
what's going on."
"Okay, but at least take me to the cafe so I can get some
food into me," she said, patting her stomach and making
grumbling noises with her mouth.
"They didn't feed you? You poor girl," Mickey teased,
holding open the door as she strode out.
The cafe of the hospital was rather empty, being so early in
the morning. Chloe ordered toast and orange juice while
Mickey decided he'd just have a cup of coffee. He wasn't
feeling much like eating food. He sat across the table from
her, watching her chew thoughtfully on the toast, wondering
what she was thinking. Of course, he knew that when he was
supposed to know, she'd tell him. Sure enough, he'd been
right. She noticed the look on his face and set down her toast.
"All right. I have a plan of action for today," she said and
watched as he nodded for her to continue. "Let's check out the
foster homes where these children were taken from and
possibly the schools, see if we can find any sense of connection
at all. Anything that might help at least get us started. I'm not
sure what that button means but--"
"The button! Oh man! I didn't get the button back. I
wonder if Charlie has it..."
"You'd better hope he does. It's the only thing we have
that might be of some use," she said, glancing around the cafe.
"By the way, what did the police say about the accident?"
"Well, I'm not sure. You'd have to ask Agent Mulder when
he gets here. I think he was calling the mechanic when I fell
asleep last night."
"Agent Mulder..." she said thoughtfully, pulling on her
bottom lip. He could tell that her line of thinking was slowly
changing. "Listen, Mickey, I want to ask you something but I
don't want you to get upset at me, okay?" He nodded, his
stomach sinking slightly.
"Go ahead," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.
"Agent Mulder is here because of what I mentioned on the
plane. I think he has a specific interest in this case. I think
we're going to have to share it with them. I want to know if
that's okay with you. I suspect they're here on unofficial
terms, but this case means something to him. What do you
say?" she asked, her eyes dancing with a strange light. He
wished he knew what she was thinking all the time, but Chloe
thought in strange ways. He thought about it for a moment,
then decided that they would probably be better off if they had
the help of the two older agents.
"That's fine by me. I'm just glad that we'll be able to call
upon their expertise," he finally said. She nodded and sipped
at the orange juice.
"Good."
Mickey noticed as her eyes drifted to the entrance
of the cafe where both Agents Mulder and Scully had just
appeared. He smiled. he thought, waving at
them.
"How're you feeling, Agent Grant?" Scully asked as she
pulled up a chair beside the blond haired woman.
"It's Chloe. And I'm fine thanks."
"Glad to hear it. I was afraid you'd be worse off than you
were, considering the condition of the car when they pulled
you out," Scully said, nodding. "Anyway, I guess you're both
wondering what we're doing here, considering we haven't had
much time to explain," Scully began, then looked at Mulder.
"Well, you see, Agent Scully and I were on vacation and
we just happened to be driving down the road and noticed--"
Mulder began, a huge grin on his face but immediately stopped
when Scully's elbow connected with his ribcage. "Ugh!
Scully, you're gonna pay for that," he mumbled. Chloe raised
an eyebrow and looked at the two of them. She tossed a
lopsided grin at Mickey, then turned her attention back to the
two agents.
"Actually," Mulder continued, "to tell you the truth, we
thought you'd might like some help, so we flew out here to
offer our services."
"We'd be glad to accept," Chloe said, smiling. She looked
from Mulder to Scully then at Mickey. All three seemed to be
content. Mulder nodded, almost as though he were relieved;
Scully smiled faintly and Mickey just stared straight ahead.
She could tell he wasn't really that impressed with the idea, but
knew that he was stumped and wouldn't refuse some good
help when he got it.
They discussed a quick plan for the day, Mulder and
Mickey deciding that they would go over to the police station
to see what was going on about the accident and to see if they
had recovered the button. Scully and Chloe were going to
head over to one of the foster homes to speak to the foster
parents.
The men left the table and Chloe chewed on the last bit of
toast, while Scully waited.
"Agent Scully, you look a little... Uhm, happy," Grant
noted, knowing exactly what had happened the night before.
She was very perceptive when it came to those things. She
grinned as Scully immediately blushed.
"What?" she asked, trying to see if she could get away
with false ignorance.
"Don't play that game. Don't even go there. I can see it,
it's written all over your face," Chloe said, a smile turning up
the corner of her lips. She could tell that Scully was hoping
that no one had noticed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Mickey.
Heaven knows that his opinion of you isn't that great to start
with."
"Just what is his opinion of me, anyway?" Scully asked,
quickly changing the subject.
"I couldn't tell you for sure, but I'm pretty sure he's not
used to women in the work force, even though he knows
damned well we've been here for a long time," Chloe said,
biting her lip and trying to think of an easy way to explain the
behavior she'd observed in her partner. "He, uh, thinks that
we're supposed to do dishes and things like that. I'm not sure
where he could have gotten that sort of opinion, but I guess it
was just part of his Italian upbringing."
"So in other words, I'm supposed to be at home making
dinner and having children?" Scully said, laughing. Chloe was
just glad that Scully was as understanding as she'd hoped she'd
be.
"Yeah, pretty much. And you know, for all my
perceptiveness, I still can't figure out exactly what he thinks of
me."
"I think I know. He likes you. I can see it in the way he
looks at you. He's already thinking about the future, hoping
that your partnership is good enough. I think he's hoping you
won't transfer," Scully said with a smile.
Chloe nodded. That's what she had thought, but Mickey
seemed so strange that she never could tell.
They were silent for a few minutes, and Chloe felt an urge
to create mischief again. She turned to Scully and smiled.
"So, what's he like, Agent Scully?" Scully looked at her
curiously for a moment, wondering where the question had
popped up from. A smile crept across her features.
"Excellent," she whispered, deciding that she could trust
Grant not to spread anything like a wild-fire.
"Wouldn't surprise me. He kind of reminds me of an old
boyfriend of mine," Chloe said, then winced. Scully looked at
her for a moment.
"You all right?" she asked.
"Yep, no physical pain. Just mental rehabilitation," Chloe
said, knowing she shouldn't have brought up the subject.
Scully shrugged, letting it go. Grant was glad, she
didn't feel like explaining her terrible relationship at the
moment.
"Shall we blow this joint?" Scully asked. Chloe nodded
and pushed back her seat.
"The toast is lousy," she said, pointing at the tiny crumbs
that were left on the plate.
She laughed as Scully nodded and said, "I bet."
Together the two women walked out of the cafeteria and
out of the hospital.
-----
Fox Mulder walked into the police station with Mickey
trailing silently behind. He smiled at the woman behind the
desk, who now looked past him and grinned at Callavelo.
"Charlie! Those F-B-I's are back," she hollered. Within a
few seconds Mulder heard the reply.
"Send 'em in."
"You can go on in there. Would you like some tea?" she
asked, indicating a pot in the corner. Both agents shook their
heads.
"No thank you. We're only going to be here for a few
minutes," Mickey replied politely. Mulder nodded. Together
they walked to the door of the Chief's office and entered
quietly.
"Agent Callavelo. Agent Mulder. Have a seat," the chief
said, smiling at the two agents. "What can I help ya with?"
"Well sir, it seems we might have misplaced a bit of
evidence that we had in the car at the time of the accident. We
were wondering if you had found an evidence bag containing a
small button?"
"I don't think so. Not off hand. But I can get one of the
officers to check for you," he said, looking out the window.
He honestly appeared to have no idea. "By the way, how's
that partner of yours? She's all right, I hope."
"Yes, she's fine. Thanks for asking. If you could check on
the button for us, we'd appreciate it," Mickey said, patiently
waiting as the chief picked up the telephone and dialed.
Through out the whole thing Mulder hadn't said a word.
Mickey wondered if he were doing it purposely. Perhaps
testing his skills. Maybe he was just going to guide them
along after all. Mickey couldn't be sure. He sighed inwardly
and hoped he was right by allowing Mulder and Scully to help
out with the investigation. He had a feeling if the Bureau ever
found out that they'd all be into loads of trouble. One more
glance at Mulder confirmed that he wouldn't be saying
anything. The man was lost in his own world.
"Okay, the officer says that they didn't find anything at all at
the scene. I can send someone out there to look for you, if
you'd like," the man said, hoping he'd be able to help.
"Oh, no. That's allright. Agent Mulder and I will check it
out for ourselves," Mickey said, as he got up. He gently
tapped Mulder's shoulder and he snapped into life. "Thanks
for your time," he said, waiting for Mulder to reach the door.
"Hey, what the heck is your problem? You come here to
help and all you do is sit in the chair with a nutty grin on your
face!" Mickey asked Mulder Mulder looked at the younger
agent and decided not to say a word about the night before.
He also knew that if he didn't put it out of his mind, Mickey
would eventually figure it out for himself. Mulder collected
himself and put the thoughts of Scully out of his head.
Mulder thought, and then frowned. He would do it now, but
if everything worked out he wouldn't have to do it any longer.
"Uh, nothing. I'm just thinking about... The case," he
mumbled. For some reason, he thought Mickey was going to
laugh, but the younger man just smiled and slipped into the
drivers seat of the car.
-----
Dana Scully looked at the five children seated around
the large table happily eating breakfast. She and Chloe had
come to the foster home where the latest victim had resided.
All of children seemed to be in good shape and most all of
them were chatting across the table. Scully wondered why
anyone would want to hurt a bunch of innocent children. Her
heart went out to them, and she frowned.
Scully turned her attention back to the woman who was
now answering one of Chloe's preliminary questions. She was
a short woman approximately in her twenties. She had
brunette hair and gray eyes. Her voice was calm and cool her
tone seemed to reflect that she worked with kids, using proper
English and grammar. Scully was also surprised to note that
she didn't have the accent that most of the people seemed to
have.
"Well, I think Arthur Grimsby was her best friend. I'll ask
him to come over when you're done with me, if you'd like."
"That's OK. I'm not sure what I'd want to ask him. But
I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Emily
Davidson. Was she a quiet child? Did she have any medical
history?" Chloe asked. Scully remained silent, sure that Chloe
was asking all that she should be.
"That's one thing I noticed about Emily, she never ever got
sick. She never complained about being sore or tired. She
never cut herself. She was a strange child, actually. She
wasn't quiet per se, but she did tend to keep to herself a lot.
She had a great sense of humour. It's such a shame..."
"We're going to get to the bottom of this, I promise,"
Chloe said absently, lost in thought. Scully looked over
at the agent. Grant seemed to have hit a dead end. She frowned,
lines creasing her forehead. Dana felt sorry for her.
It was her first case and she was having a bitch of a time.
"I really hope you find who's been doing this. These are
innocent kids being murdered," the woman said, then pushed
back her chair. "Uhm, if you'll excuse me I have to get these
kids going. I'll be happy to answer any further questions later,
if you like," she said, excusing herself and walking slowly
away.
Scully looked at Chloe and shrugged. "Well, I guess that's
that. Now what?" she asked.
"I don't know. I really don't know. I'm stuck. I can't get
anywhere and I can't think of anything else to ask." Chloe
shook her head sadly.
"How about if we go and see the school nurse, perhaps she
had the chance to do a blood test on Emily."
"Sounds like a plan."
-----
"It shouldn't be that hard to locate, Callavelo!
I mean, my god, we should be seeing skid marks, crime tape. .
." Mulder was trying not to get exasperated.
"Look. I know it's here, but I can't find it!
Besides, you were there, too," Mickey said pointedly. "Have
_you_ seen any skid marks, crime tape or anything?" They had
been up and down the county road almost 5 times.
Mulder stared out the window intently, then closed his
eyes. He tried to envision the trees, the underbrush, the
mile markers, anything that might lead them to the scene of
the accident. Then he opened his eyes. "Stop the car!" he
commanded.
Mickey pulled over to the side of the road. He, too,
stared at the area and then slowly opened the car door.
Taking his time, he examined the ground at the side of the
road. Then, he joined Mulder, who was looking intently at
the bark on a tree, flaking it off in large pieces to reveal
a scar underneath.
"Impressive job," Mulder muttered, almost to himself.
"Who would have done this?" Mickey demanded, not quite
willing to believe what his eyes were telling him. The scene
of the accident, that was less then 24 hours old at this
point, looked perfectly undamaged. The tree where the car
had been wrapped around was even 'patched' to appear
unharmed.
Mulder was quiet for a moment. Mickey stared at him,
waiting for an answer. Finally, Mulder straightened up and
starting marking off the distance to the road. "Well,
Callavelo, I could tell you that, but then I'd have to kill
you," he teased. Mickey kicked a rotting log in disgust.
"You know, Callavelo, it's possible that we've, er, you've
stumbled on to something that someone in authority doesn't
want to be stumbled on."
"Ah, Mulder! Don't give me that government conspiracy
crap! I don't buy it. I know this looks. . ." he was at a
total loss for words. "Okay, it's a professional job. . .but
still. . ."
Mulder sighed deeply and crossed his arms, looking like
a headmaster about to expel a particularly difficult student.
"Callavelo, how many serial killers have you tracked?"
Mickey looked at the older agent defiantly. "Just
because I'm not the VCS poster boy doesn't mean I don't have
a background here, Mulder," he growled.
"Okay, so how many serial killers that you've had
'background' in would one, do a professional job on your
brakes so that you would almost certainly not survive the
crash, and two, clean up the accident scene after the police
have already searched the area?" Mulder's tone was
challenging.
Mickey stood in stunned silence. "Why bother to clean
it up if the police have already been here?" he asked, more
of the air, than of Mulder.
"My point precisely," Mulder exclaimed triumphantly.
"Your killer couldn't care less. Any clues leading to him
would have been uncovered by the police. Unless, of course,
this killer happens to be experienced in police procedures,
or was trying to avoid any further investigation. Most
serial killers I know are mentally deranged individuals who
get their jollies committing untold atrocities or in just
plain killing people. They usually don't get involved in
'cloak and dagger' stuff. It's not a part of the game. It
doesn't get them off. He hasn't played 'James Bond' at any
of the other sites, so why do it now?"
"It doesn't fit the profile," Mickey whispered.
"And if it don't fit, you must acquit?" Mulder grinned
mischievously. Mickey shot him a dirty look and Mulder's
grin only grew. "Okay, Callavelo. You don't have to believe
me. I can't give you hard evidence that this 'accident' was
planned, implemented and 'cleaned up' by a group in any way
connected with our government. It could have been a
Reticulan operation, for all I know," he said, and watched in
delight as Mickey threw up his hands in disgust. "BUT, you
have to admit, it was not done by the killer. Am I right on
this one?"
Mickey chewed on his lip for a moment before answering.
"Yeah, you're right, on that ONE item," he added guardedly.
"So what are the chances that the 'group that wants you
dead' might have found the button that you were holding?"
Mulder asked quietly.
"Too darn good for my liking," Mickey answered in
disgust.
"My thoughts exactly," Mulder agreed. "C'mon.
Scully and Chloe are supposed to meet us for lunch. And
maybe one of Charlie's men located the button by now. At
this point, I'm afraid it's our only hope of finding it."
-----
Orangeburg Diner
Scully and Chloe had just sat down at the booth when
Mulder and Mickey walked in. Neither of the men looked
entirely happy, and the women didn't seem too enthusiastic at
the results of the morning, either.
Scully got up to wave them over to the booth. She
caught Mulder's arm before he sat down. "You okay?" she
asked, concerned at the scowl on his face.
He forced himself to smile, nodding almost
imperceptibly. "Just peachy," he said, hoping she would
understand that it was something he wanted to discuss in
private. She did.
"So, guys, did you find the button?" Chloe asked,
searching Mickey's face for some sign that he wasn't mad at
her in particular.
"The place had been swept clean," Mickey muttered,
almost too quietly for the other agent to make it out.
"What do you mean 'swept clean'?" Chloe asked, now
scowling almost as much as Mulder had been previously.
"Swept clean! As in 'no sign of an accident'," Mickey
growled. Sensing her hurt and confused expression, he
softened. "They scrubbed the tire marks, they swept the soft
ground at the side of the road so no tracks remained, they
even went so far as to cover the scar on the tree with fake
bark. Somebody did not want that place to be looked at
again. And we didn't find the button," he added in disgust.
"Shit," Chloe muttered.
Scully made a point of exchanging a questioning glance
at Mulder. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes that
she not ask those questions at the moment. She understood
and sat quietly.
"Did you find out anything on the Davidson girl?"
Mulder asked, hoping to guide the conversation off the topic
of the accident scene.
"She was quiet, had a couple of friends among the foster
children, but none really close and she's not been sick in
the 9 months she's been in Orangeburg," Scully sighed,
closing her notebook.
"And since she's never been sick, and it wasn't the
scheduled school year for physicals, there has been no blood
drawn on her since her arrival, either," Chloe added.
"A few more dead ends and I'm gonna start thinking I'm
in a cemetery," Mickey muttered. Chloe kicked him softly
under the table and gave him a 'chin up' smile.
Mulder had been quiet for some time, lost in thought.
"There's still the school. It's possible that someone
connected with the school is involved. I have a suggestion.
How about you two going over to the school and see what you
can find out? You can take our rental car."
"And what are you going to be doing?" Mickey asked,
somewhat suspiciously.
"We're going back to the hotel and check our e-mail,"
Mulder dismissed him. Chloe couldn't help the knowing smile
that played on her lips and Scully saw it. Silently, she
pleaded with her for forbearance. Chloe winked and said
nothing.
Mickey had missed the interchange between the women, but
was willing to accept Mulder's explanation. "Sounds like a
plan," he said, and picked up the check.
"Okay, Mulder, what are you thinking?" Scully asked as
they made their way to her room.
"How beautiful you look when you're stumped?" he
retorted. She playfully kicked his shin. "Ow, hey not so
rough! What makes you think I'm thinking?" he continued.
"Something is whirling around in that little space you
have between your ears, Mulder. I can hear the hamster
wheels squeaking," she teased. He tried to look offended,
but failed.
"It was something you said, Scully. Emily has only been
in Orangeburg for 9 months. She's in foster placement from
another city, a big city, if what Chief Russell told Mickey
and Chloe is correct. So, has anybody run a missing person's
on these kids?"
"Mulder, they're in foster care. They had abusive
parents. They aren't foundlings. What are you thinking?"
Scully asked.
"All 6 of these kids are from other places. We know
that at least the last one came here within the last year.
Before that, we know almost nothing about her, except for her
considerable involvement with the State of South Carolina's
child welfare system. But we don't know her parents, her
_real_ parents. That information was not in the files. We'd
need a court order to get it, Scully. I'm saying, what safer
place to hide a kid than in the child welfare system? They
just disappear off the face of the earth. Kids are always
slipping through the cracks! It's the perfect hiding place."
"Hiding place for whom, Mulder? Who would want to hide
these kids?" Scully asked, still trying to figure out what
leap of logic Mulder had taken.
"Someone who wanted to take previously 'abducted'
children and re-enter them into society, Scully," he said and
was not at all surprised at the look of exasperation on her
face. "Scully, think about it! These kids had 'green goo'
instead of blood. They weren't your normal, run of the mill,
foster kids. And they hadn't been in any place for more than
a year for the last couple of years, I'd wager. So let's
pretend that I'm not totally insane, here. Let's pretend
that someone, or something, abducted these kids, turned them
from normal to abnormal, like those bodies you saw at the
Hanson's Disease Research Facility, and then decided to
return them to society. They couldn't very well give them
back to their parents, now, could they? Parents are going to
demand physicals. Parents are going to ask questions.
Parents are going to notice if their child happens to bleed
green instead of red! So, the kids end up in a child welfare
system, away from their homes. We already know that mind
wiping is not just for science fiction anymore," he added
pointedly. "And then, somebody has decided, for whatever
reason, to do a clean up operation. Is that so implausible?"
Scully closed her eyes and said nothing for a moment.
"Either you are trying desperately to come up with a
solid reason to put down on my commitment papers, or you're
actually beginning to see where I might be on to something,"
Mulder said with a grin.
Scully licked her lips and Mulder couldn't help but
notice how that simple gesture had a very profound affect on
his heart rate. he chided
himself. Finally, Scully looked down at her hands, breaking
their gaze.
"Mulder," she began quietly. "At some other point in
time, I would have gone to the local pharmacy and prescribed
the thorazine myself. But after what I saw in West Virginia.
. ." her voice trailed off. She got up and walked over to
the window. "I don't think we could ever convince Callavelo
of this line of inquiry," she said quietly.
"So? We do a little side investigating. It's mostly
computer stuff, anyway. It's not like we'd be stepping on
toes. We don't even have to tell him until we have some
proof." Mulder got up and walked over to stand behind her,
wrapping his arms around her waist. "We don't say anything
until we have hard evidence.
Does that make you feel better?"
She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"A little," she said with a shy smile.
"So what was that little silent exchange between you and
Chloe when I said we would come back to the hotel?" he asked,
kissing her forehead.
Scully was too busy enjoying the feel of his lips on her
skin to want to answer, but knew better than to remain quiet.
"Well, she sort of, ah, guessed," she said in a husky
whisper.
He continued to trail kisses over her closed eyelids.
"Guessed? Guessed what?" he murmured.
Scully was no longer satisfied with just receiving his
attentions, so she had started giving his chin some attention
of its own. "Guessed about us," she murmured.
Mulder pulled back and looked at her with dismay.
"Guessed about _us_? As in, what we did last night?
How!? How the hell could she. . ."
Scully laughed softly at his reaction. "It's okay.
She's not going to tell anybody. I guess she noticed that we
were both smiling a little too much this morning. Hey, she
was the one to bring it up and she was also the one to
promise not to tell Mickey. She doesn't think it would
improve his opinion of me if he thought I'd slept with you.
Or maybe, it would improve his opinion of you, I don't know.
But don't worry, she's keeping it to herself."
Mulder moved over to the bed and sat down. Scully
looked at him, concerned. "What's the big deal? It's not
like we're violating Bureau policy anymore. Hell, Mulder,
there is nothing to stop us. We discussed this last night,
remember?" she asked, annoyed at the obvious backtracking he
was doing.
Mulder looked up at her, a little stricken. "It's not
that. I just, I don't know. I'm not ready to tell the
world, yet. I want to make sure it's safe, you know?"
"My little paranoid sweetheart," she sighed
affectionately. "Look, remember Aubrey, Missouri? You
couldn't figure out how I knew that BJ Morrow and Lt.
Tillman were having an affair? It's a woman's thing, Mulder.
For some reason, we just have radar in this area. Chloe knew
it, at least she was honest enough to confront me for
verification. And I know, just as surely, that she would
never betray my confidence."
"Not even to her partner?" Mulder asked pointedly.
"Not even to her partner," Scully assured him.
"Look, I mentioned the incident in Aubrey to you because it
was related to the case. I've noticed lots of little
'trysts' at the Bureau that I've _never_ mentioned to you.
It's not that I don't trust you, or that I would lie if you
asked me to confirm your suspicions. I just don't divulge
all of my knowledge of other people's personal lives." She
straddled him, with her hands on his shoulders. "We aren't
going to have to go through a repeat of last night, are we?
Where I have to practically force myself on you to get you to
believe that you're worthy of my affections?" she teased.
With one quick twist, he had her flipped onto her back
and pinned beneath him. "No, I think we settled that one
last night. I just don't want to take out any billboards
just yet. I enjoy keeping you all to myself, right now," he
growled and slowly began unbuttoning her blouse.
"My lips are sealed," she murmured as he leaned down and
made sure of her promise.
Orangeburg Elementary School
2:15 pm
The principal of Orangeburg's only elementary school was
a slight woman of approximately 40 years of age. But the
look in her eyes showed a strength and determination that
reminded Chloe of several veteran agents she had worked with
at the Bureau. She stood up from behind her desk and removed
her glasses before holding out her hand to the two agents.
Chloe mused as she shook the woman's hand and accepted the
proffered seat. She noticed Mickey's respectful and
attentive manner. He looked like an eighth grader, she
thought for a brief moment. One that had been caught smoking
in the boys room. She bit her lip to keep the smile off her
face.
"Mrs. Chaney, we were wondering if we could get a copy
of the employment records for the school. We are looking for
recent employees, perhaps people who have come on board in
the last school year," Mickey said.
"Would you like teachers only, or all staff?" Mrs.
Chaney asked.
"All staff, actually. We don't overlook anyone.
There have been several cases where a janitor or even a
cafeteria worker has been involved in pedophilia, kidnapping.
. ." Mickey trailed off.
"I can assure you, Agent Callavelo, we check our people
out closely. South Carolina may not be the richest state in
education, but we have child protection laws. Our employees,
everyone who regularly works with the children, has to
undergo a fingerprint analysis, which I believe is conducted
through your data bases at the FBI," Mrs. Chaney bristled,
somewhat offended at the accusation that had been made.
"Mrs. Chaney, that data base contains only people who
have been arrested for one of the child endangerment crimes
and have been indicted," Mickey said pointedly. "There are
still many loopholes in the system. And there are new people
on those files everyday. Now, I'm sure you are as interested
in bringing the person who killed these children to justice
as anyone. Believe me, we aren't here on a witch hunt. We
simply want to check ever angle." He gave her his best
smile. She relaxed a little.
"I'll have Ms. Black make you a copy of our staff
listing. Is there anything else?"
"We are probably going to interview the Emily's
teachers, just to see if any of them might have noticed
someone new in her group of friends. And, of course, any one
who appears to fit the profile of the killer that we're
working from. But we'd like to keep this as quiet as
possible," Chloe added.
"We have a conference room off the library. It's quiet
and not many students go in there. Feel free to use it to
talk to anyone in the school. I'll have Ms. Black show you
the way," Mrs. Chaney added, flipping the intercom on her
desk and summoning her secretary.
As soon as the agents were settled in the conference
room, Mrs. Chaney placed a long distance phone call to
Washington, DC.
-----
Office of Walter Skinner
Washington, DC
September 3, 1995
"Where the hell are they!?" the man asked, angrily
standing above him with his hands palm-down on the desk.
"I told you! Both of them decided to take their
holidays earlier this year and I feel they deserve it!"
Walter Skinner shouted back. He was not impressed with the way
the man before him sometimes tried to intimidate him with his
glowering stares. The man pushed back away from the desk,
reaching into his coat pocket for a package of Morley's. He
swiftly pulled one out and stuck it into his mouth.
"I want to know exactly where they went, and I want to
know NOW!" he growled as he sucked on the cigarette, trying to
light it with a match.
"I'd have thought you'd have learned by now. I don't
give in to your demands," Skinner said, standing up. "And I
don' want you smoking in my office!" He snatched the cigarette
out of the man's mouth and snapped it in half, tossing it into
the ashtray.
"Listen to me, you asshole--"
"I'd suggest you stop. I'll have you kicked out on
your ass so fast you won't know what happened," Skinner said,
firmly. He put his hands on his hips and watched as the Cancer
Man's scowl deepened. "Now, I've told you before. They're on
vacation. I don't know where and I don't care. For
all I know they're on the moon sunning it up with aliens,"
Skinner said, stepping closer. "Now get out of this office,
before I have you physically removed!" he finished, using his
height as an advantage over the older man. The man's eyes
darkened and he turned quickly on his heel, storming out of
the office.
Skinner sighed angrily, looking at the ashtray where
the cigarette butt still glowed red, tendrils of smoke emerging
from it. Skinner picked up the remaining cigarette butt and
crushed it in his hand, ignoring the burning of his flesh.
-----
Orangeburg, South Carolina
Elementary School
5:45 PM
They had been sitting in the conference room for hours,
going over records and talking to some teachers and other staff
who seemed to have small inconsistencies in their files.
Nothing had been turned up.
Mickey Callavelo stretched his arms above his head,
locking his fingers and letting out a loud sigh. He pushed
back his chair and stood up, going to stand behind Chloe to see
what she was up to. She turned her face up at him for a moment
and gave him a cocky, tired smile.
"Had enough, big boy?" she asked, pushing the book that
was in front of her away. He stepped back as she pushed her
chair out and stood up.
"Yeah. We're not getting anywhere. I haven't seen a
loophole in the records for almost an hour and the last person
we interviewed was clean. My eyes are getting sore. At this
rate I'll develop an incurable headache," he mumbled, angrily.
"You *are* an incurable headache," Chloe said and he
gave her a sarcastic smile. She laughed and took a hold of his
shoulder. "Mickey, loosen up! We're going to find that break,
I promise you. Maybe we should try and find out where that
button came from. I still think it's the missing link," she
said, tightening her grip. He shrugged loosely, and shook his
head.
"That button could have come from anywhere. Maybe it
was even one of the investigating officer's. We have no way of
knowing for sure." He hung his head agitatedly.
"You're not. . ." she playfully lifted his chin with
one finger so that he looked into her eyes. "Giving up, are
you?" she asked and he shrugged, breaking free from her grip
all together. He paced silently for a few minutes, trying to
clear his thoughts and put some order back into things.
"I'm not going to give this up! I can't give it up.
It's just too. . . I don't know, but I do know that we owe it
to this town to find--" Mickey began but he was cut off when
the door burst open and a young girl dashed in, tears streaming
down her cheeks. She threw herself against the wall and sobbed
uncontrollably, obviously she hadn't noticed they were there.
Long locks of brown hair cascaded down her back. She looked to
be about eight years in age, but Mickey couldn't tell for sure,
since her back was to them.
Mickey and Chloe exchanged a look before they slowly
approached the girl.
"Honey?" Chloe said, gently putting a hand on the
girl's shoulder. The girl instantly tensed, then slowly turned
around. The sobs had been cut off completely and she was
shaking in fright now. Chloe knelt down so that she was at eye
level with the child. "Honey, what's wrong?"
"W-Who are you?" the girl asked shakily.
"My name's Chloe and that's Mickey, we're FBI agents,"
Chloe explained quietly. Mickey was impressed with the way she
instantly changed personalities when dealing with certain
people. He was awed at how soothing her voice was right now.
Mickey thought,
as he watched the girl slowly calm down.
"FBI? Whoa!" the girl said, then a smile erupted
on her lips. Chloe grinned back.
"Are you hurt? Can you tell us what's the matter?"
Chloe coaxed.
"I-I. . . Uhm, hey, how do I know you're an FBI
agent?" The girl asked, growing suspicious. Chloe exchanged a
glance with Mickey, who simply shrugged. Sometimes kids just
said the craziest of things.
"Here, I'll show you my badge," Chloe said, slowly
reaching into her pocket and pulling out the black case which
contained her ID. The girl took it into her hand and opened it
slowly. It was almost as if she expected it to snap shut on
her fingers. She glared at it for a few moments, then the grin
returned.
"You look funny in your picture," the girl said, then
erupted into giggles. Mickey smiled as he watched and wondered
what Chloe's picture looked like. It occurred to him that he
still hadn't seen her badge.
"I know. But I'm a funny gal. So, now that you're
convinced that I'm an FBI. . ."
"I just had a fight with my best friend. She makes me
so mad sometimes," the girl said. Chloe regarded her for a
moment.
"I see. That's okay. Friends are allowed to fight
sometimes, you know. Actually, my friend Mickey and I always
fight. Right Mick?" she asked, and the little girl looked up
at him. He nodded, hiding a smile as best he could. "See, it
just goes to show how much you care about each other," Chloe
added. The girl nodded. "So, what's your name, honey?" Chloe
asked.
"My name's Samantha."
"What a beautiful name! I always wished my parents had
called me Samantha, you know," Chloe said, cheerfully. The
little girl beamed. "I bet your last name is even better."
"I don't have a last name."
"What? No last name? Come on, you're pulling my leg!"
Chloe teased.
"No seriously! I don't have a last name! You see, I
live in a foster home across town and I don't remember much
about how I ended up there," the girl said, happily relating
her life's events as though she didn't care who knew.
Finally Mickey stepped forward and tapped Chloe on the
shoulder. He turned to Samantha.
"Will you excuse us for a minute, Sam?" Chloe patted
the girl's shoulder lightly for a minute and then eased herself
up from her position on the floor, walking with Mickey to a
spot that was out of Sam's earshot.
"I think we've got something here," Mickey whispered,
staring into Chloe's eyes.
"Mick, she's just a girl. She has absolutely nothing
to do with this case," she replied, watching as his face
clouded over and he threw a glance back at Sam.
"You're sure about that?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"Well, I'm not. I've got a gut feeling about this and
I just want you to humor me about it, okay?" he said and for
the first time he wondered if Chloe would raise a complaint.
She stood still for a moment, contemplating.
"Fine, Mickey. If you've got an idea, then we'll go
with it. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," she
whispered finally and he smiled. He'd won that small
confrontation. In a moment, Mickey turned back to the girl and
softly explained to her what was going on. He asked her if she
would like to see the inside of a police station. She nodded
happily.
-----
Dana Scully awoke to the sound of a cell phone ringing.
She lifted her head away from Mulder's chest and strained to
figure out whether it was her phone or his. She eased herself
out of Mulder's embrace and reached for her purse, pulling out
the cell phone.
"Scully," she whispered, trying not to wake Mulder if
necessary. If she'd known how that phone call would change his
life, she would have awoken him in a flash.
"Agent Scully, it's Chloe. Mick and I have found one
of the kids with green blood. We're at the hospital."
"All right, I'll be right there. Tell them to prepare
an autopsy bay for me. I'll be doing this one myself--"
"No, that won't be necessary. She's alive." Scully's
jaw dropped at the words. She shifted around, drawing her
knees up to her chest and sat silent for a moment.
"She's alive?"
"Yes. Her name's Samantha. She says she doesn't have
a last name. Lives at one of the foster home. We've, uh,
taken her to the hospital to do a few tests--" Chloe
explained, but stopped at Dana's sharp intake of air. To
Dana's surprise, her hands were trembling as she held the
phone. she thought. Then she felt Mulder's
hand begin to rub her back and she tensed completely. Could
she get his hopes up like that?
"Okay, I'll let Mulder know. . ." she said after a few
moments of silence. She'd already decided that she would not
tell Mulder the girl's name. If it was Samantha *Mulder*, they
would find out together at the hospital.
"Thanks. I guess we'll see you two in a while," Chloe
said, then hung up. Scully sat quietly for a moment, Mulder's
hand reached up to her shoulder as he slowly sat up.
"Dana, you okay?" he asked, concerned at her tension.
"Yeah, fine. They've found one of the children and
she's very much alive. Maybe we can finally get somewhere."
"Was she attacked?"
"Apparently not. I'm not sure how they found her,"
Scully said. she tried to
convince herself. She knew she wasn't lying to him, but she
was willingly keeping the truth from him. her inner self chided. Scully shook her head and
slowly got up, heading quickly to the bathroom before Mulder
could see the look on her face. She knew it would give it all
away.
-----
Orangeburg Hospital
"What exactly did Chloe say on the phone?" Mulder asked,
for possibly the tenth time since they had received the call
at the hotel.
"Just that they found a child with green blood, alive,
and they were here with her," Scully replied, trying to keep
her patience.
"This could be the break we're looking for," Mulder
said, speeding up his steps. Scully's hand on his arm
brought him to a stop. "What?" he asked, aggravation
clouding his face. "Okay, it's the break *they're* looking.
. ."
"No, that's not it." Scully sought for the right words.
"I just. . . I want you to know. . . I love you, Fox," she
said very quietly.
He grinned broadly. "I figured that out between last
night and this afternoon," he teased. "But come on, now.
There's a time and a place, Scully. And now is neither, so
let's hustle."
Samantha was looking more than a little scared as she
sat in the examining room, dressed in a hospital gown. The
doctor was nice enough, but she didn't feel sick and she sure
didn't understand why the FBI would be so interested in her.
She wasn't a stupid child, she had heard the snatches of
conversation. And as much as she had been told not to watch,
she had caught a glimpse of the blood sample as the
technician drew it into the vial. It had been green, the
color of the antifreeze her foster father put in his pick up
to keep the old thing from overheating. That wasn't right.
She knew a little about the body and health and blood, she
knew, was supposed to be red.
But then, she couldn't remember the last time she had
fallen or skinned a knee. It had to have been a long time
ago, maybe over a year. Tears were beginning to form in her
eyes as she tried to remember what her life had been like
before, before she woke up in a foster home, with no last
name, no memory of a family, nothing but a little bracelet
with the name Samantha engraved on the back of one charm.
Mickey and Chloe were standing in the hallway outside
the examining room, deep in discussion. "Maybe we should
have all the foster kids in the county tested," Mickey was
saying sarcastically as Chloe rolled her eyes.
"I'm just saying that it's a pretty big coincidence that
so far, all the victims, and now a totally unrelated little
girl end up with green blood," Chloe hissed back. "And I
doubt that we could manage to get them all tested. We're
just lucky Samantha's foster parents were also friends of
Emily's foster parents and seem to care about her enough to
have her tested. Otherwise, we'd never have found out
anything."
She looked up as the big double doors in the middle of
the hall, dividing the in-patient rooms from the out-patient
exam rooms, opened and Mulder hurried toward them with Scully
quick on his heels.
"Where is she?" Mulder asked without greeting. "Has she
said anything?"
"Outside of her name, her first name, she doesn't seem
to know anything. Literally," answered Chloe. Mulder shot
her a perplexed look, so Mickey filled in the blanks.
"She entered the child welfare system almost a year ago.
Before she got to her current placement, no one knows for
certain where she came from. And for some reason, she's
suffering from amnesia," Mickey added, glancing at his notes.
"Did anyone search missing persons?" Mulder asked,
somewhat lost in thought.
"Checked her prints, but found no match among recently
missing children. They mentioned a glitch in the system,
though," Chloe chimed in.
"A glitch?" Scully asked.
"Yeah, but it didn't pan out. The foster parents said
there had been a match on prints, but the girl whose prints
she matched, and not 100% by the way, has been missing a long
time. She'd be a lot older by now, in her late twenties or
something," Mickey said, dismissing the whole discussion.
Scully turned visibly white. "Did the foster parents
say they knew the name of the missing girl?" she questioned
Mickey.
"Nah, I don't think they ever knew. No matter, it
wasn't a match, so why bother," he replied.
"Can we go in there? I'd like to ask her a few
questions," Mulder said looking up and down the hall for
doctors or nurses, those people who tended to stand guard
over patients.
"I don't see why not," Mickey said. "We've been in and
out of there for the last 45 minutes and no one has tried to
stop us. C'mon, I'll introduce you." He walked over and
pushed open the door, knocking lightly as he did. "Sam," he
called. "There are some people here I'd like you to meet.
They're friends of mine and Chloe's, so you don't have to
worry, okay?"
"Okay, Mickey," came the soft voice from inside the
room. Mickey didn't notice Mulder's reaction to that voice,
but Scully and Chloe did. It looked like he had just stopped
breathing.
In a split second, Mulder had shoved Mickey aside and
was in the room. The minute his eyes met the hazel eyes of
the little girl in front of him, he lost all color in his
face and Scully grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.
"It can't be. . .it can't be. . ." he managed to
whisper. His eyes searched for and found Scully, standing
with the same wide eyed wonder he knew he had to be
displaying. Sitting on the examining table was the spitting
image of the little girl whose picture rested on Mulder's
desk in the office. In front of the them was Samantha
Mulder.
"We've been fooled before," Scully whispered hurriedly
in his ear as she fought to bring him back to reality.
It took him a moment, but slowly the more rational part
of his being took over. He nodded slowly, but didn't trust
himself to speak. He looked over to Scully, pleading for her
help. She understood and nodded in return.
Scully let go of Mulder's arm and he slid down into a
plastic chair in the corner of the room. She made sure he
was okay, then walked over to the little girl on the table,
who was looking at them with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
"Hello, Samantha. My name is Dana. I'm a friend of
Mickey and Chloe's. And this is Fox, he's our friend, too,"
she said quietly, calmly, more calmly than she felt. She
watched closely for any reaction Mulder's name might have
produced in the girl, but Samantha's expression did not
change.
"Are you with the FBI, too?" the little girl asked. The
more she talked, the more apparent her soft New England
accent became. It sounded totally out of place after days of
hearing the deep Southern drawl of the residents of
Orangeburg.
"Yes, we are. Do you know why we're here?" Scully
asked.
"Because somebody hurt Emily and she died," Samantha
answered. "But I don't know who it was. I didn't know Emily
very well, she was older than me," she added.
"That's okay, Samantha. But we would still like to ask
you a few questions, if you don't mind. Maybe you saw
somebody, somebody who likes to talk to the foster kids, at
school maybe. Do the foster kids play together much?" Scully
asked. She could hear the heavy breathing coming from the
chair behind her and knew this line of questioning had to be
driving Mulder insane, but she wanted to ease into any other
discussions. The little girl looked frightened enough
without adding more confusion.
"Sometimes we have family picnics," Samantha said
thoughtfully. "But we're all in different grades and go to
different churches. We don't play together much, except all
the kids in one house, maybe. I didn't know who Emily
played with," she concluded. "What's wrong with Fox?" she
asked suddenly.
Slowly, Mulder stood up and walked over to the girl.
Scully couldn't decide if she should stop him or let him go
on. Finally, she let him go to her.
Mulder's eyes were focused on the small charm bracelet
on Samantha's left wrist. "Where did you get your bracelet,
Sam?" he asked, trying very hard to sound collected.
Samantha looked down at the bracelet and frowned. "It's
from before," she said simply.
"Before what?" Mulder prodded gently.
"Before I came here. I don't know anything about back
then. Mrs. Dodds says I can't remember because someone hurt
me real bad and I'm afraid I'll remember the hurt. But I
don't think so. I think," she stopped and took a deep,
frustrated breath.
"You think what?" Mulder continued.
"I think somebody 'stole' them. My memories. I don't
think I got hurt. Sometimes I have dreams and they're happy
dreams. I had a family, and they loved me. I know kids who
were hurt by their moms and dads. They have scary dreams and
are afraid all the time. I don't have those dreams. My
dreams are good," she added confidently.
"I have dreams, too," Mulder confided. "What are your
dreams like? Do you remember anyone's face or name?"
Slowly, the psychologist's mind was coming to the fore and
Scully sighed with relief. It had been close.
"There aren't any people in my dreams. Just a house.
I'm in my room, but I know there are other people in the
house, I just can't see them. They're aren't in the room."
"What does the room look like, Sam?" Mulder continued.
"It's sunny. There are two beds, with a big book case
in between them and two windows, one on the wall by my bed
and one on the wall at the foot of my bed. My bed has a
really pretty bedspread that's white with ruffles and hearts
that are made of that red cloth, what's it called? It has
lots of little checks of red and white?" she asked of the two
women in the room.
"Gingham," came the answer, from Mulder. "The hearts
are of red checked gingham."
Samantha looked at him and giggled. "Yes! That's what
it's called! Gingham," she pronounced it, delighted that he
would know.
Mulder's voice was growing very tense, but he kept on
with the interview. "What about the other bed, Sam? Do you
remember it?"
The little girl's face screwed up in concentration.
"Yes. It's got a blue bedspread. It's not pretty, like
mine. It's got lines on it, but they are the same color.
The lines make it feel rough when I sit on it."
"Like little cords running through it?" Mulder asked.
"Uh huh, like cords. And I don't sit on it very much
because it belongs to my big brother, and he doesn't like me
to mess with his stuff," she admitted.
At that small confidence Mulder turned and walked from
the room.
Scully turned to Sam quickly. "I think Fox must have
been paged," she lied. "I better go give him his phone, it's
in my pocket," she smiled. Then, in a quick aside to Chloe,
she whispered. "Don't let her out of your sight and see if
she remembers 'people', Chloe. Anything she remembers about
her family. Especially her big brother. I'll be back in a
minute." Then she left the room to search for Mulder.
It took her a while to find him. He must have started
running the second the door closed behind him. He was
sitting in the small garden outside the hospital where the
smokers went for their breaks. There was no one there but
him and he was crying.
She walked up to him slowly and sat down beside him,
putting an arm around his shoulders.
"She got that bracelet from our grandmother," he said
between breaths. "For her eighth birthday. And our room was
just as she described it. She had this bedspread. . .my God,
Scully, Mom still has it. I remember the day we moved out of
the old house, she made me take it off and put it in the
trunk because she couldn't stand to touch it." He looked at
her with stricken eyes. "Could it be? Could that be *my*
Sam?"
Scully took a deep breath. This was going to be
extremely dangerous and her answer had to be exact. She knew
how tenuous her partner's hold on reality was at that moment,
and the wrong word or action could drive him away from her
forever. That was not a consequence she was willing to
accept. "Mulder, we can't be sure of anything. I have to
admit, though, that she looks just like your picture. And it
would be easy enough to examine the bracelet. Regardless of
whether she is the real Sam or not, she does seem to be
connected in some way." She watched him closely and he
closed his eyes and nodded.
"So what do we do? How do we find out? And my God,
Scully, she's still a little girl. I mean, the clones, at
least they were grown women. Could she just be a clone, too,
one who hasn't grown up yet? And why doesn't she have any
memories? The clone who was killed on the bridge, she knew
all about Sam, knew the games we played, knew about me,
remembered the night she was abducted." He stopped and
looked at her with all the pain and anguish that could his
eyes could possibly hold. "I want it to be her, Scully, but
I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. . ."
-----
"Chloe?" Mickey asked, uneasily. He had watched as
Mulder shot out of the room hastily and had known that Scully
lied to the child about the pager. He was missing something.
He didn't like to be missing something.
"Uh, I don't know what's going on," she whispered in his
ear, so that Sam could not hear them. "I suspect that this
is why Mulder was so interested in this case. Except I don't
think he really expected to find what he was looking for,"
she explained, going on feelings that she'd been seeing in
him ever since she'd met him. She had heard stories about
his sister's disappearance but it was only now just occurring
to her. This girl reminded him of his missing sister. It
all made sense and it all fit into the her puzzle quite
nicely. She shrugged at Mickey, then moved closer to Sam,
bringing the plastic chair to sit in.
"Samantha, can you tell me anything else about your
brother?" Chloe asked, using the same calming tone she had
earlier when dealing with the upset child. Sam blinked at
her for a moment, wondering what was so important about her
brother, but shrugged.
"I don't remember much. He was pretty tall. Much taller
than me. Uhm, he had brown hair and he was skinny. Come to
think of it, Fox reminds me a lot of him. The voices I hear
in my dreams are always kind. Soothing, like Fox's," she
said, and Chloe smiled at her.
"Well, honey, Dana thinks it's important that you try and
remember as much as you can. Can you explain anything else
about your family?" Chloe asked, then glanced at Mickey, who
had his small notepad out and was ready to take notes.
"Uhm, I really can't. . . Wait a minute. There's one
dream I have pretty often. There are little men standing on
a board. Red and Blue. It's a game that my brother and I
used to play all the time. Sometimes though, the dream
changes and the little men are engulfed in light and they
float away from us."
Chloe looked puzzled, throwing another look at Mickey. He
shrugged, writing vigorously as the girl spoke.
"This game, do you like it?"
"Oh yes. I can remember it being fun. . . I think," she
said, hesitantly.
"If we took you to a toy store, do you think you could
point it out?" Chloe asked, almost at a loss for questions.
She wondered if the game was important.
"I don't know," the girl said, and shrugged. "I'm
hungry, can I have some food?"
"Sure, honey. I guess Mickey and I could treat you to
lunch, but we'll have to wait for Dana and Fox, they'll be
hungry too," Chloe explained, hoping that they would return
soon. "How about you lay back and relax. I need to speak to
Mickey about special FBI things."
"Will there be any more tests?"
"No, Sam, no more tests. Promise," Chloe said, crossing
her heart. Sam giggled and nodded, laying back on the table
and closing her eyes.
-----
"You can't promise that there'll be no more tests,"
Mickey said as soon as the door to the room swung shut.
"Oh yes I can. We're finished with her--"
"What if they want any more blood tests?"
"They'll have to make due. I can't let them take any
more. We can't risk her finding out that she's not normal.
At least not until we know what's going on."
"Sometimes--" he said between clenched teeth.
"Sometimes what, Mickey?" she asked. He remained
silent. "Sometimes you'd just like to punch my lights out,
wouldn't you?" she suggested.
"You know, you're right about that. But for the most
part, I don't hit women."
"I think I'd prefer it if you did hit me, you know why?"
Chloe said, her tone softening. They had both been under a
lot of stress and now they just needed some sleep. Very
badly.
"No, why?"
"Because then I can trust you not to shoot me when things
get really bad. Believe me, this is just the start," she
said, easing into a calmer tone and letting some of her
humour drip into it. Mickey relaxed visibly and she was
glad. Yet again she'd stepped on his toes and she could tell
he was getting sick of dancing.
"I just realized something," Mickey said, smiling. "You
mentioned something on the plane. Said I'd have to wait to
find out. You never told me what it was."
"Oh, yes. You'll still have to wait. Maybe later
tonight I'll tell you," she said and her grin widened as she
remembered.
-----
Scully wrapped her arms around Mulder and allowed him to
let his feelings flow out. His tears dripped on the lapel of
her coat, soaking the material and making it appear much
darker. He sobbed, shaking against her, she held him tight
as if her strength would be passed into him. Finally his
tears began to fade and he looked up at her with damp eyes,
almost as if he were ashamed.
"I'm sorry," he said, using his hand to wipe away the
remaining tears from his cheeks. "I just feel so helpless,"
he said, standing up, his back to her.
"Don't be sorry, Mulder. I love you and I'll be here,
however you need me," she whispered as she put her arms
around his waist again, resting her cheek on his back. She
could feel that he was still shaking. His emotions were raw
and she knew that he wouldn't be useful for much longer.
She should insist that he go back to the hotel, knowing only
too well that he'd refuse.
"Scully, we've got to talk," Mulder said suddenly, and
he slowly turned around in her arms, raising his hands to her
face. He peered down at her and his expression scared her.
"Mulder, I know--" she said, but stopped as his index
finger touched her lips.
"Dana, if that--" He caught himself, then started again.
"If she's really Sam, then I want to be sure she gets the
right things in life. I think. . ." he stopped again.
"Fox?" Scully asked, she didn't like where this was
heading.
"I think, if that is Samantha, I want to adopt her.
She's my sister and she deserves to be a part of a real
family again."
"You call your fish and a well beaten sofa, a family?"
Scully asked, her eyes round as saucers. Mulder was talking
about adopting a child. It would be someone to care for,
someone to show love for. Was he ready to handle having a
child in his apartment? "She's a little girl, Mulder,"
Scully mumbled, unsure of what to say, aware that she was
treading on very thin ice.
"A family, Dana. You and me and Samantha," he said,
after hesitating for a few minutes. Scully stared up at him,
stunned, her jaw slack.
"Mulder, you're not suggesting. . ." she trailed off.
"Listen to me, Dana. I love you. You know I've been
searching my entire life for her. We can live together and
finally be happy. . ." he said, then noticed that her eyes
had darkened. He had suggested the wrong subject way too
early. His gravest mistake ever. He leaned forward and
kissed Scully on the lips, if only to test her reaction.
His guess was correct. She didn't return the kiss with
much feeling at all. Was it because she was still too
stunned? He didn't think so.
"No, no. No. . ." he said, backing away. What had he
done? "Scully, I didn't mean. . ."
"Mulder, stop. It's okay. I understand what you're
trying to say," Scully began, trying to seem like she
understood. Had he been trying to propose to her? After
such a short time? She didn't know, couldn't know. Scully
watched in stunned silence as Mulder ran blindly away from
her, his long legs carrying him much faster than she could
ever hope to run. She let him go.
-----
Mulder stopped running and threw himself on the grass.
What had he been trying to tell Scully? He had been trying
to tell her that he wanted to be there for her forever. But
why had she become upset? Was she scared of sharing him with
Samantha? Afraid that his love for his long lost sister
would dilute his love for her? Could Dana Scully be that
selfish? He hadn't thought so.
Mulder stretched himself out on the damp ground, the sun
sinking slowly into the horizon behind him. He buried his
head in his arms and remained that way for a very long time,
just thinking. The tears began to flow again a short time
later and he knew that the little girl in the hospital room
was indeed Samantha Mulder, his sister. His baby sister. He
had waited a long time to see her again. Mulder had come
close a couple of years ago when the clones had claimed to be
his sister. That little girl in there *was* her, he could
feel it. He could tell just by the way she looked at him.
The sound of her voice sent chills down his spine. He wanted
to bring her back into the family. Could he have them both?
-----
Dana Scully slowly dragged herself up the steps to the
entrance of the hospital. She felt like hell. There were so
many things she needed to sort out. She couldn't figure out
why she had been upset when Mulder told her that he wanted to
adopt Samantha. She didn't know why the thought of it
made her stomach turn and sink slightly. Perhaps it had been
because she had received all of his attention for the last
five years and wouldn't be used to it being divided. No matter how she tried
to deny it, the truth was there, lurking behind it all. She
was jealous. She wanted to have Mulder to herself, to
explore this new found avenue of their friendship.
She realized that by her own jealousy, she just might
have driven away the only man she'd loved for the last five
years. She was going to have to deal with Samantha, if she
was the real Samantha, and accept her as part of Mulder. All
part of the package.
She pulled the door open and walked down the hallway to
the elevators. She waited patiently, thankful that the time
would allow her eyes to dry. The tears had begun to fall
just after Mulder had run from her. The elevator arrived and
Scully rode up in silence, finding a bathroom close to the
wing where Mickey and Chloe were waiting for her. She rinsed
her face and made sure that there was no trace of the anguish
she felt, although she had a feeling Chloe would know the
instant she entered the room, without Fox Mulder.
She walked slowly, deliberately, towards the room. She
pushed through the door and looked at the little girl who was
sleeping peacefully on the examination table.
"Mickey?" Scully asked. "Could you take her home to her
foster parents? Tell them to keep a close eye on her," she
said, an even and cool tone escaping her lips. She was glad
for that one small savior.
"Sure, Agent Scully. No problem," he replied. Chloe
looked over Scully. Dana watched as her expression changed,
noting that the other woman was taking mental notes, getting
ready to ask questions at a later time. Scully found herself
looking forward to getting everything off her chest. Chloe
Grant was the perfect person to talk to. She seemed so. . .
She was just very empathetic. Grant herself had even
mentioned a bad experience with a man. Scully would not make
a point to dump on the woman, but if she asked questions,
Scully knew she'd break down. Perhaps Grant sensed that too.
Perceptive.
"Mickey, I'm going to go out and get some tea. Make sure
you feed that kid, we promised, remember?" Chloe said, then
grasped Scully's arm and fixed her with a purely sympathetic
look. "Why don't you come with me? You look a little
stressed."
Scully nodded, unable to say anything, not trusting her
own words.
"Uhm, I'll see you back at the hotel, then I guess?"
Mickey said, catching, for once, the negative vibes that were
flowing through the room. He wondered how one person could
change moods so quickly. He'd never seen anyone go from
being on cloud nine, like Agent Scully had been that morning,
to completely stressed. This case was definitely getting
weirder and it was almost time he demanded some answers.
-----
Orange Peel Coffee House
Orangeburg, South Carolina
9:18 PM
Chloe Grant sipped at her cup of tea, sitting across from
Dana Scully in a deserted coffee shop. She glanced at
Scully, who hadn't uttered a word since they left the hotel.
Sometimes Chloe hated being so quick to pick up on other
people's feelings. Sometimes it played havoc on her own
system.
"Where's Agent Mulder?" she asked, finally.
"I don't know," Dana replied a little too sharply,
looking away from her cup, which she had been staring into
since they had arrived, and out the window.
"Hold on here. Just this morning you were so-- Well,
just what the hell is going on here?" Chloe said, sounding
angry, even though she wasn't really. She wanted Agent
Scully to realize just how serious she was about solving this
case, and if the two older agents were going to get in the
way, she wanted to get them out. No matter how much she
admired Dana Scully, she needed to solve this case. Her
first real case. "Who the hell is this Samantha and just
what does she mean to Mulder?" Chloe asked, realizing that
she'd spoken a little louder than she had intended and had
attracted the attention of the stout woman at the counter.
she thought. Her muscles were getting sore
from the accident and her broken finger hurt and she needed
to get some sleep. It had been one hell of a long day.
Across from her, Dana Scully's gaze hardened and her eyes
glistened. She set her jaw. Her grip tightened on the mug
before her, making her knuckles turn white. Chloe had set
her off and would probably pay for it with a few harsh words.
"Agent Mulder," Scully said angrily, "has decided to
play 'disappear'. I don't know where he is and frankly right
now, I don't care," the doctor blurted. Apparently Scully
wasn't angry at Chloe herself.
"Dana, what happened? Between you and me, as friends.
Explain it to me. I want to listen. You need someone to
talk to," Chloe said, reaching out and taking the older
woman's hand in hers. She could feel Scully's hand shaking
beneath her firm grip. Scully was definitely using every
ounce of her strength to keep from breaking down completely.
Chloe let go of her hand, and looked sympathetically at
Scully as the tears slowly began to flow down her cheeks.
"Fox Mulder lost his sister a very long time ago. That
little girl in that room resembles her to a 't'. That little
girl *is* his sister," Scully spat out, finally. Chloe
nodded as the pieces fell together. Of course, she should
have guessed from the reactions. "He wants to adopt her.
Wants to let her have a real family. This family, it
includes--" Scully stopped, burying her hands in her face.
"It includes Mulder, me and Samantha. He wanted to--" she
stopped again, but this time did not continue. Chloe nodded.
Both women remained silent.
Chloe sighed inwardly. Obviously Fox Mulder had no idea
just what he meant to Dana Scully. She did not ask any more
questions. Dana didn't reveal any more information although
Chloe knew that she needed to. Perhaps Dana wanted to deal
with it internally. Chloe shook her head, remembering back
to her own miserable relationship. She pushed the thoughts
from her head. Maybe some day she'd explain to someone. Not
tonight.
She drank the last of her tea, and waited for Dana.
-----
Orangeburg Hospital
Samantha woke up with a start. She had just been having
one of her dreams, but this time, at long last, there were
people in it. Or one person, at least. Her brother. And it
was Fox. Sam searched the small examining room for his face,
but found only Agent Cavellelo in the room.
"Morning, sunshine. Have a nice nap?" Mickey asked with
a smile. This, he could handle. He had little sisters and
nieces and 8 year olds weren't nearly as frustrating as women
in their twenties.
She returned his smile, then looked around the room
again. "Where is everybody? Did Dana and Fox come back,
yet?" she asked.
Mickey took a deep breath, trying to quickly gather his
thoughts. "Ah, no, they had some real important FBI stuff to
do. They'll see you later, probably tomorrow. Chloe had to
go with them. So, I guess that means I get to 'escort' you
to lunch, Miss Samantha," he said, with much gallantry. It
got the desired effect. The little girl broke into giggles.
"Shall we go? Opps Cinderella, I think your ball gown needs
some work," he said suddenly, remembering the hospital gown.
"How about if I wait outside and you change into the one your
Fairy Godmother gave you?"
"If I'm Cinderella, does that make you the Prince,"
Samantha giggled with delight.
"Nah, it makes me Nana the Dog, but hey, at least I'm in
the story, right?" he smiled in return and left her alone to
change.
It took Sam no time at all to change and then she was in
the hallway, looking for Mickey.
"Where do you wish to dine, milady?" he asked in grave
tones.
"Well, the Dairy Queen is my favorite," she confided
shyly.
"Then Dairy Queen, it is. But you'll have to direct me.
I may look like Bruno, but I lack his directional skills," he
confided in return. More giggles and the two left the
hospital.
"I called your foster parents. I told them I'd bring
you home after we have some lunch," Mickey told Sam as they
settled into Mulder's rental car. Mickey thought. Whatever Mulder was doing,
it was confusing Mickey completely. Here was an experienced
agent, acting like a total loon. But that did fit in with
the rumours. Suddenly, he was beginning to regret agreeing
to have Scully and Mulder stick around. He had a case to
worry about, and babysitting a pair of nutcase agents did not
figure into his plans.
"Turn here at the corner," Sam said, pointing and
bringing Mickey back to the present.
"Hey, you're good," Mickey said with admiration as they
pulled up in front of the Dairy Queen. "You can direct me
any time," he added.
"I told you, it's my favorite place," she replied and
quickly exited the car, racing him to the front door of the
restaurant.
"Okay, Sam. This is on the government, since you're
helping with our investigation. The sky's the limit. What
do you want?" Mickey asked, surveying the menu board above
their heads.
"Hmmmm, I want a double cheeseburger, fries, a chocolate
milkshake, medium sized, and a hot fudge sundae for dessert,"
she rattled off the order.
Mickey's eyes grew wide. "Where are you planning on
putting all that food?" he exclaimed, noting her tiny frame.
Sam giggled again. "I TOLD you I was hungry. I missed
lunch at school and I didn't eat much at breakfast. I was
helping dress the little kids," she said and then grew quiet.
Mickey waited until the food arrived and they had sat
down to talk again. "You woke up pretty hard in the
hospital. Did you have a bad dream?" he asked.
"No. I told you, I don't have 'bad' dreams. It was a
good dream. And Chloe wanted to know more about my brother."
She grew silent and stared out the window for a minute.
"Does Fox have any brothers or sisters?" she asked suddenly.
For some reason, she didn't want to tell Mickey about her
dream, but she wanted him to answer some questions she had,
nonetheless.
"He had a little sister once, but she disappeared,"
Mickey answered truthfully.
Samantha acknowledged his answer with a nod. Then
brightly asked, "Hey, do you like baseball?"
Fox Mulder took a deep breath and walked over to the
parking lot. Cavellelo obviously still had his car. He had
already checked the room and found that Mickey and Samantha
had left and that Chloe and Scully were nowhere to be found.
he thought ruefully. From the lookDana's face
the last time he had seen her, he wouldn't
have been surprised if she were packed and half way to the
airport by now. he chided himself. The only option he had left was
to go back to the hotel, and figure out what would really be
best for Sam.
Half way to the hotel, it struck him. Maybe he WAS
asking too much. Maybe Dana wasn't jealous, she just wasn't
up to taking on the responsibility of an 8 year old child.
Sure, she had been willing to help him find his sister. But
that was when they thought they would find a 30 year old
woman. Someone who might need some emotional support
returning to her old life, but who would have at least gone
through adolescence. Looking at it from Dana's perspective,
he could see why she had reacted the way she did. Now, he
had to figure out how to make it right. There were two women
in his life suddenly, and he refused to think he would have
to lose either of them, ever again.
Orange Peel Diner
"Look," Chloe said, using her best 'mother hen' voice.
"I think you need to go and think this through. Everyone's
emotions are riding a little bit too high, right now. You
need to be alone and figure out what's best for you, what's
best for Mulder and maybe, even, since you are the rational
one of this duo, what's best for Samantha. I do think Mulder
is right on one score. Growing up in a foster home is not
the most desirable lifestyle. If there is an alternative, it
deserves to be looked into. But whether or not YOU fit into
that picture, well, that's got to be up to you."
Dana nodded slowly and started to get up. "Chloe, I . .
. I mean, Thank you," Dana said softly.
"Don't mention it. Especially since I could be arrested
for practicing psychiatry without a license," she grinned in
return. Dana smiled for a second and then left for the
hotel.
The walk to the hotel wasn't far, just a couple of
blocks, but it gave Dana a chance to think. she said to herself. She chewed on her lip awhile. she thought ruefully.
A child to raise. Of course, Dana wanted kids. She
might have put off having them so that she could pursue her
career, but that didn't mean she was completely oblivious to
her own loudly ticking biological clock. And the man she
could most easily envision having those children with was
definitely Fox Mulder. she
asked herself again.
She
was Fox's sister. Dana had no part in her, had no
connection. She could see herself loving the little girl,
simply because she meant so much to Fox. But what would
happen when their own children started to make an appearance?
How would they fit into to Fox's affections? Would Fox even
want other children, since he already had one to raise--the
one he had spent 20 some years searching for?
She considered for a minute exactly what she was doing.
she decided. She knew how loving he was. She knew
how much he loved her. She knew he had even traded Samantha
for her, once in his life. So why, in the world, did she
think so much less of him now?
she concluded.
In the light of a little reason, what he was suggesting was
something she might have suggested herself, given time to
think through the options. But in typical Mulder fashion, he
was two steps ahead of her thought processes and as a result,
she had balked at his suggestion. she had to admit. The only
difference now was that their relationship was so much
deeper. And so much more emotional. Mulder could accept her
questioning his theories on a professional level. But, her
reluctance to jump on a marriage proposal, to him, was a
rejection of *him*, not just a desire to think it through.
she
decided.
She was almost to the hotel when she saw the lanky form
in the doorway. He must have seen her, because he was
standing there, waiting.
"Hi," he said quietly, trying to gauge her reaction.
"Hi, yourself," she answered. "Are you feeling any
better?"
"Depends," he replied.
"On?" she asked.
"On how badly I screwed us up," he said softly.
She stood there and gazed up at him. "I don't think
even you could manage to make me stop loving you, Mulder. If
you haven't figured that out by now, I obviously have my work
cut out for me." That elicited a small smile. "We still
have a lot to talk about, though," she added.
"I know," he said. "And I owe you an apology, too. It
wasn't fair of me to dump all of this on you so suddenly.
That was stupid, and selfish, and. . ."
"Typical?" she smiled, just barely restraining a
chuckle.
"Am I that bad?" he countered.
"Sometimes," she admitted. She saw his face fall again.
"But not all the time. It's just that, sometimes, Mulder,
you forget that you need to let me catch up, you know. You
race so far ahead that that I have to run twice as fast to
keep up with you. That goes for your mental processes, as
well as jogging."
"I'm sorry. I'm really very, very sorry. I can't
promise I won't ever do it again, but please believe me that
I never meant to hurt you or scare you away. . ." he pleaded.
She cut him off with a finger to his lips.
"I know that. And I may have overreacted a little, too.
You have to know, Fox, I meant it when I said I love you.
And I meant it when I said I would be there for you, however
you need me. But this is a big step, several big steps,
really, and I think we owe it to ourselves, AND to Samantha,
to sit down and think it through before we rush in to
anything. That doesn't mean my answer is 'no'. It means I
take this proposition so seriously, that I want to make
absolutely sure we are doing the right thing, for all of us.
Can you understand and accept that?"
"Ever the practical one," he smiled at her.
"One of us has to be, occasionally," she pointed out.
"So, let's go up to your room and talk it out," he said,
opening the door.
She hesitated. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't think
that's such a good idea. Seems like every time we try to
discuss something in that room, we end up not discussing much
at all," she said in a low suggestive tone.
He had to chuckle. "Okay, then we can go to my room. I
have all my files on the bed, so *maybe* we might actually
consider talking less work than, ah, other activities," he
said and wiggled his eyebrows. She laughed and nodded in
agreement.
--------
Chloe was waiting for Mickey in the hotel when he
returned from dropping off Samantha at her foster home. She
had a sheaf of faxes the desk clerk had given her in her
hand and a very disturbed look on her face.
"What's the matter, now?" Mickey asked, feeling a little
like Alice in Wonderland. Every time he turned around, this
case just got curiouser and curiouser.
"I did a little checking. Seems that Mulder might have
been on to something. Apparently, he called the DC office
this afternoon and asked to have missing persons run a cross
match on all the victims with their data files. Mickey,
every one of those kids showed up on a list," Chloe said,
handing the faxes over to Mickey.
He sat down in a wing chair and read through the pages.
"Chloe, some of these kids have been reported missing for . .
.my gosh, 20 years! That's not possible! These were little
kids, not midgets! What the heck. . ."
Chloe stifled a grin. "Cavellelo, do you EVER cuss?"
she couldn't help but ask.
"Grant, when I'm mad enough to curse, stand back. You
won't want to be in the shockwave," he answered with
conviction. She eyed him suspiciously and nodded her
acceptance. "And looky here," he added, coming to the last
page. "Samantha Ann Mulder. Missing since Nov. 27, 1972.
Eight years old, brown hair, hazel eyes." The fax contained
a picture of young Samantha. "Now, THAT'S 'Spooky' for you!"
He handed the pages back. "Okay, so now we have 7 people who
never grew up, who have green blood, who were all abducted
from their homes as children, suddenly showing up in
Orangeburg, South Carolina, some as long as 23 years after
their abductions, and 6 of them are already dead. Hey,
I'm ready to go back to wire tap, how about you?"
Chloe scoffed at him. "Michael, Michael, Michael. . .I
never thought of you as a quitter. C'mon, that's what the
NORMAL agents are there for! We're the X-Files--ALL of our
cases are likely to be like this one! Where is your sense of
adventure? As far as I'm concerned, this case is just
starting to get interesting! I only wish. . ." she trailed
off, looking up the stairs of the old hotel.
"Wish we could actually get some assistance from our
'assistants'?" he added, to end her thought.
"Yeah, something like that," she sighed.
"Well, at least it makes more sense, how. I mean, if it
had been my sister. . .I would have freaked, too I guess.
But that doesn't really explain Scully's actions. I mean,
it's not like they're involved or anything," he said, then
caught the look Chloe was giving him. "Or are they?" he
asked, this time suspicious.
"Are all Irish-Italians from Chicago as dense as you, or
did you just fall off the family milk wagon once too often?"
Chloe asked, disgusted.
"Hey, I lived a sort of sheltered life! Gimme a break
here. Besides, he didn't say anything. . ." Mickey tried to
defend himself.
"And I'm sure when you sleep with a woman, IF you ever
do, you go out and blab it to the first person you meet," she
shot back. Mickey blanched.
Chloe slapped herself mentally.
"Oh," was the only word to escape Mickey's lips. There
was a few moments of uncomfortable silence, when he finally
regained his composure. "We better keep an eye on Samantha.
We may not know exactly who is after her or why, but I think
it's fairly obvious that she is in danger, and at this point,
we seem to be the only people sane enough to protect her,"
Chloe nodded and followed him out the door.
-----
The shifting of the wind was enough to tell him that
the fire would burn rapidly through the house. It would
definitely be an easy job, especially with the aid of the can
of gasoline that he had been given. He silently walked
around the building, splashing the gas carelessly over the
walls. He made sure that it was thoroughly covered, stepping
away from the house and deeper into the shadows of the night.
From there, he lit a small piece of cloth, which had been
soaked in gasoline too, pushing it into the remainder of the
can. He heaved the can up over his head and tossed it easily
through the window, smiling at the thrilling sound of glass
breaking. As one final precaution, he lit a match and tossed
it into a patch of grass which he had made a trail of gas to.
It quickly caught fire, traveling quickly up to the walls of
the house. He watched as the blaze quickly engulfed the
home, then turned and ran away, not leaving any evidence of
having been there... Except another tiny button from the
military suit jacket he'd been wearing.
-----
An affair! Agent Scully and Agent Mulder were having
a damned affair and Chloe Grant had known about it. Mickey
Cavellelo was furious. Why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't he
picked up on it? And of course, the fact that it was
interfering with their work was even worse. As Chloe drove
slowly towards the foster home of Samantha Mulder, he sat in
the passenger seat, thinking about his obvious blindness.
"I can't believe it," he mumbled, staring into the
darkness, out the window of the passenger door.
"What?" Chloe asked, flashing a quick glance in his
direction. Mickey hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud.
"They're having an affair," he said, straining to keep
the disappointment out of his voice. He should have known
better, Chloe picked up on it directly.
"Relationship. Neither one is married, so therefore
it's not an affair," Chloe corrected, happily. Mickey
balled his fist, controlling his temper.
"Thank you," he said, seething. "I don't care what
they're having, except the fact that they're messing up this
case!" he cried. His cheeks flushed red and he stared at
Chloe. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would never *ever*
have agreed to let them help."
"Okay, let's get some things straight. For one, I'm
sick of your attitude. Mulder was the one who originally had
the idea of checking against the missing persons database.
Without that, we wouldn't have found out what these children
had in common," Chloe said, feeling her own temper rising.
Mickey had better watch it, because her temper did not rise
often. "Without their help, we'd be back in Washington by
now, scratching our heads and wondering what wiretap would
really be like."
"Chloe--"
"And for another thing," Chloe's voice had grown
harsh. "If you don't clean up your act, you're going to
discover just how good at bone rearrangement I really am!"
she said, trying to keep focus on the driving.
"You don't have to get so upset, I just don't like
the way everyone is keeping things from me," he said, trying
to calm himself and his partner down.
"Michael, they didn't want to tell you for that
*exact* reason. You blew your lid. Besides, it's their life
and they can do whatever the fuck they please. Do you
understand?" she asked, turning the corner and pushing the
gas pedal down. She was still a little weary about the
accident that had occurred just yesterday, her concussion
hurt, not to mention driving with her broken finger, but she
was angry enough not to care.
"Yeah, I get what you're trying to say, but this is
my first case and I just don't want to mess it up!"
"You think I want to mess it up? You're wrong. And
you know what, I'm starting to wonder if this partnership is
really worth it. All we ever do is argue, all the time!"
"Chloe, please--"
"What, Mickey? Does that hurt your feelings, that I
can't work with you because you're so damned stubborn? You
seem to think that women have a place only at the home. I've
proven that theory incorrect. Agent Scully has proven that
theory incorrect. I'm sick of your bullshit! And your
temper, that's another thing entirely!" Chloe said. Finally
she slammed on the brakes, too angry to drive.
The street was dark, almost all of the lamps burnt
out. She threw open her door. She knew now that she was
over-reacting. The worst part was that she needed to get it
out of her system. Needed to yell at someone. She wanted to
put all the blame on Mickey. The accident. The death of the
young girl. The loss of the button. And yet, none of those
things were his fault at all. She stepped out onto the
street and turned her face up to the sky, slowly summoning
her courage to help control her anger. Surely, as she
regained composure, Mickey was at her side, staring at her.
"Chloe?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder,
unsure of what else to do. Suddenly, she began to laugh, as
if it were all a drama for his benefit.
"I'm sorry, Mickey. I'm just so damned tired. Do
you think Sam will be alright, at least for tonight?"
"I guess so," he said quietly. His hand was still
firmly in place on her shoulder. "Tell me something,
Chloe..." She nodded slowly. "Did you mean it? Did you
really mean what you said about working with me?"
"No," she said, reaching up and patting his cheek.
"No. No, I didn't. You've got to understand one thing about
me. I seem to be very perceptive when it comes to other
people's emotions. It's been a curse of mine since I was a
little girl," she paused, moving away and leaning against
the car. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. "You
see, sometimes when a lot of things have happened and a lot
of people are on edge, I get filled with, well, 'angst', for
lack of a better word. Especially if I'm as exhausted as I
am tonight. I'll get irritable and I end up taking it,
irrationally, out on whoever is nearest," she said, sighing
again. She felt the car move slightly as he leaned against
it beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder, causing
her to open her eyes. She turned to look at him.
"I understand. Like I said, though, I wish you'd
tell me these things sooner. I'm not at all perceptive, as
I'm sure you've guessed."
"I guessed," she said. He nodded, his arm lingering
around her shoulder for a moment longer.
"Let's go home. I'll get up early and go to talk to
Samantha's foster parents. We'll see if they'll let us take
her into protective custody at least until we figure this
out," he said, pushing away from the car. As he began to
walk away, Chloe suddenly reached out and grasped his wrist.
He turned to her and looked in the dim light at her. For a
moment, he felt something strange pass between? them, but it
passed as she spoke.
"You're driving. I can't. I'm too tired," she said,
letting go of his hand and walking slowly past him to the
passenger side of the car. he
thought, looking quickly up at the stars.
Mickey was acutely aware of just how close he had come to
losing the greatest partner. He knew he'd have to clean up
his act and watch what he said. No more speculating out
loud, that was for damned sure.
-----
Queen's Motel
5:45 AM
Fox Mulder awoke to the sound of his cell phone
ringing. Dana Scully had retreated to her own room two hours
after they had returned to discuss things. He wished he
could wrap his arms around her body, just once more, but knew
that it would be a while before that might happen again.
Scully was just a little too weary about the whole thing. He
ached to have her in his arms but pushed the thoughts aside,
afraid that if he dwelt on it for too long, he'd be unable to
stop himself from going to her.
Another ring brought him back to life. He jumped off
the bed and grabbed the cell phone.
"Mulder," he said, sleepily.
"Fox Mulder?"
"Yes."
"This is Samantha's foster father, Richard Jessup,"
the man on the other end sounded upset. His voice cracked as
he spoke, obviously worried about something.
"How can I help you, sir?" Mulder asked, vaguely
wondering where the man had gotten his cell phone number.
"Well, one of the other foster homes has been
torched. The house is just up the street from us. I went
down when I heard the fire trucks. When I got back to tell
my wife, Samantha went into hysterics and asked that I call
you. I didn't have your number, so I called the FBI and
talked to a man named Skinner. This was the number he gave
me--" Mulder was no longer listening. He was panicked. If
Samantha was in trouble, he needed to help her.
"Sir, has she been hurt?"
"Who?"
"Samantha. Has she been hurt?" Mulder begged.
"No, Mr. Mulder. She's fine. But the other foster
home has been completely ruined. The fire marshall has
determined that everyone got out safe and sound, but Sam's
really scared. I think she's afraid we might be next."
"Okay, I'll send one of the other agents over to take
a look at the fire, as soon as possible."
"One more thing, Mr. Mulder..."
"Yes?"
"Samantha says that you're her brother. I don't know
where she got such a crazy idea, but is it true? Are you her
brother?"
"Sir, my sister disappeared a long time ago. I have
reason to believe that under strange circumstances she was
returned here, to Orangeburg, with no memories... In short,
yes, I believe so," Mulder said, feeling the pangs of the old
memories return to him. It felt so good to know that he had
finally found his sister. Samantha had been his everything,
his entire life. And now that he had Dana Scully too, his
life had just gotten better. With the promotion in the FBI,
he felt sure that he'd finally be able to rest. His entire
life seemed so pointless now. It felt good.
"Mr. Mulder, I'm glad I got a hold of you. Samantha
was worried about her friends at the foster home and I'm sure
she'll feel better now that you and your fellow agents will
be on the case. I think she's grown attached to your
friends. She mentioned one, Chloe, I think Sam said her name
was. Anyway, I'm sorry I had to wake you up for this, but
she just wouldn't go back to sleep."
"Thank you for calling, sir. And..."
"Mr. Mulder?"
"Keep an eye on Sam. I can't afford to lose her
again."
"Always, Mr. Mulder. Goodnight," the man said, and
hung up. Mulder pushed the END button on his phone and sat
staring into the night for a few moments. Why had someone
wanted to torch the foster home? There were only four or five
other children living there and surely they weren't all
related to the case. They couldn't all have green blood.
Green blood. That was something else, Samantha had green
blood. Was it alien? Was his sister an alien? Mulder
shuddered at the thought. He wanted to scoop Sam up and get
her out of this town, away from all the misery and death.
She'd already had one friend cut down by this unseen killer
and for all he knew, they still weren't any closer to finding
out what was going on.
Mulder slipped out of his bed and pulled on a robe,
quietly opening the door which joined his and Scully's
rooms. He had to talk to her. He needed to take Samantha
back to Washington as soon as possible. He wanted to be sure
the little girl would be safe.
He padded silently into her room, hearing the shallow
breathing of his best friend. He reached the edge of her
bed, then looked down at the sleeping form. She looked
beautiful in the soft moonlight that was streaming in from
the single window of the room. Her auburn hair cascaded over
the pillow, silky and shiny. Mulder reached out, to awake
her, but suddenly a new emotion washed over him. He snatched
back his hand, as though touching her might burn his flesh.
Mulder gasped, quietly then stumbled back a few steps, a
realization hitting his stomach like a rock.
Dana Scully was in just as much danger as Samantha
was, although not the same danger. Fox Mulder realized that
even if he managed to get Samantha back to Washington, they
would still come after him. If they came after him, they
might try to get to him by using Scully.
Tears began to stream down his face. He was in total
turmoil. He couldn't leave Scully, but he couldn't leave
Samantha either. It was evident that he couldn't have both.
It would not be an easy choice, but a choice that he was
required to make, just the same. Mulder gathered his wits
about him and silently left Dana to her sleep, closing the
door softly behind him. He did not awake her to tell her
that he was leaving. He did not leave a letter explaining
where he was going and he did not take his cellular phone
with him. His heart broke in two, one half left in that room
with the sleeping auburn haired woman, the other floating out
to the little girl who had so much of her life left to live.
Fox Mulder had decided. Dana could find other men.
She would get over him, but Samantha needed his help now.
She was his little sister. The first person he had loved.
The one he had been searching for. She needed his help and
he had made that choice, no matter how much it hurt.
-----
September 4, 1995
Queen's Motel
9:23 AM
Dana Scully walked around her room, looking for an
earring that she must've lost the previous day. So much had
been happening that she didn't even realize it was gone.
She shook her head, which was sopping wet from the
shower she'd just had. The earring was no where to be found
and finally Dana gave up. She guessed that it must've fallen
off when she and Mulder... Mulder. She hadn't seen him this
morning.
Pulling the robe tighter around her body, Scully went
to the joining door and knocked. He did not answer. She
knocked again.
"Mulder, it's me. Can I come in?" Again he didn't
answer. Afraid that he wasn't awake yet, Dana turned the knob
and pushed into the room. She looked around quickly. Mulder
was no where to be seen. His clothes were gone and his files
were gone. He'd even made his bed. There was nothing left in
the room except for the lone cellular phone.
Scully's jaw immediately slackened. Her lips began
to tremble, along with the rest of her body. She felt as
though she were going to fall backwards. She stumbled towards
the wall, leaning slowly against it.
"Fox Mulder, you asshole," she whispered. She
lifted her chin and set her jaw, trying to figure out just
what she'd done to him, to make him leave. She'd thought
they'd discussed it all last night. She'd thought that he'd
understood when she said that she needed time to consider it.
She should have told him that she would marry him. She
should have made absolutely sure that he knew she wanted to
be with him.
she tried to tell herself.
she thought. She just couldn't
accept that.
A sharp knock at the door brought her out of her
inner turmoil. She stared at the door, not wanting to
answer it. With her luck it would be Cavellelo and then
she'd be right up the creek with no paddle.
"Agent Mulder?"called the definite male voice.
"Damn," Scully muttered, and was surprised when the
door creaked open. Mickey poked his head around and was
stunned discover Scully leaning against the wall. Her face
must've betrayed her feelings because he immediately scooted
in, closing the door behind him.
"Where's Agent Mulder?" he asked, eyeing Scully. The
red in her cheeks and the way she was trembling hinted at
what had happened.
"Do I look like I know?" she snapped, and regretted
it almost immediately.
"Agent Scully, what's going on?" Mickey asked.
-----
Richard and Tess Jessup's residence
6:30 am
Fox Mulder stood at the door and banged with all his
might. After an eternity, Richard Jessup arrived at the door,
looking just a little angry, with a shotgun in his right
hand. He took in the hyper young man on his doorstep and
narrowed his eyes, taking the shotgun into both hands in a
defensive gesture.
"Mr. Jessup, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. . .Samantha's
brother," he said hastily, holding up his ID for the older
man to see. Mr. Jessup studied it and the face of the young
man standing before him, then remembered his conversation
with the Assistant Director. He relaxed visibly and then
opened the screen door.
"Mr. Mulder, I didn't expect you by this early. Come on
in, I'll put on some coffee."
"No, Mr. Jessup, I don't think I can stay that long.
I've come for Samantha. I believe that fire last night was
set deliberately and Sam's in danger. I'm taking her under
protective custody." He chewed on his lip, hoping the older
man wouldn't want to verify any of this with the local
authorities. He did have the authority to do what he was
about to do, but he didn't want anyone alerted to his
whereabouts. Especially Scully.
For a moment, Jessup looked like he was going to pick up
the phone. Then, he thought better of it and simply nodded.
"Let me get Tess up. She'll help Sam gather her things."
Mulder let out a breath he had been holding and nodded in
return. He watched Jessup go up the stairs and almost
collapsed into an arm chair in relief. This was going to
work. He would leave the rental car up the road and get
another under a different name. Then, he and Sam would get
the hell away from the state, the country, the continent,
if he had his way. No one, not Cancerman, not the FBI, not
the killer would find them. a small voice
said and a tiny piece of his heart broke off and fell into
his stomach. He closed his eyes for just a minute and let
himself remember how wonderful it had felt to hold her in his
arms, to know that she loved him.
He shook his head angrily. Such thoughts were *very*
counterproductive at this point. He should be happy that he
had been loved by Dana Scully, that they had any time
together. He couldn't be with her again, but the last five
years had been enough for a lifetime, he tried to convince
himself. It was enough that he had found Samantha. To hope
that he could have a 'normal' life, a wife, a home, children,
that was all too much. That would never happen and he would
have to get accustomed to the idea. Samantha needed him,
that's all he needed to know.
Rest Inn
7:45 am
"He's gone," Mickey said flatly to Chloe as she
approached the door. He had been standing in the hall,
waiting for her since his phone call. He didn't think he
could take looking at Dana Scully's face one more minute--it
made his head hurt to see the desolation in her eyes.
"Well, where did he go?" Chloe asked evenly.
"If we knew that, do you think we'd be sitting it out
here at the motel?" he asked crossly, then immediately
remembered their 'conversation' of the night before. "I'm
sorry, Chloe, I didn't mean that like it sounded. No, we
have no idea. He didn't leave a note, and he left his cell
phone behind. I called the Jessups' house and he showed up
there about 6 am, took Sam and some of her clothes and said
he was taking her into protective custody. Then they left.
Mr. Jessup has no idea where they went. I didn't want to ask
too many questions, I think I was beginning to worry him. I
mean, it's not like Mulder is the killer or anything. I
think the little girl is safe with him. It's just that,
well," he stopped talking and turned to look at Scully, still
sitting on the edge of the bed. "She's a basket case," he
whispered.
"I feel sort of like I'm back in college, right after
the big Homecoming Game 'sleep over'," Chloe muttered, and
walked past Mickey and into the room. "Dana? Hey, you
okay?"
Dana looked up, as if just realizing that someone was in
the room. "Chloe. Yeah, I'm fine." But her eyes betrayed
her and the tears were still wet on her cheeks. "He's such a
stupid bastard sometimes, y'know?"
"Directly related to testosterone poisoning," Chloe said
with a grin. She was relieved to see the grin Dana returned
to her. "Now, you were his partner *forever*. What would
his next move be?"
Interstate 26
9:00 am
"Fox?" Samantha had been quiet the entire time, not
even speaking when he stopped at the very next town and
gotten another rental car. Now, they had been driving for
almost an hour and she couldn't keep her silence any longer.
"What, Sam?" he asked, surprised to hear her voice.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked, a frown furrowed across
her brow.
He looked like she had slapped him. "No! Of course
not. What makes you ask that?"
"You seem like you're mad at somebody. I just wanted to
make sure you aren't mad at me. I mean, for all the trouble
I've caused," she said quietly.
he thought. "Sweetheart,
you haven't been any trouble. What makes you think that?" he
asked gently.
"Well, we're running away, aren't we? That's why we got
a different car. And you haven't called anybody on your
phone, to tell them where we're going. You told Richard that
you were putting me under protective custody--I saw that on
TV. It means that I'm in danger, right? That's sounds like
I'm a *lot* of trouble, if you ask me," she concluded
thoughtfully.
He groaned inwardly. "Sam,
we need to talk. Yes, you are in danger. The man that's
been hurting those other kids, well, I have very good reason
to believe that he wants to hurt you, too. So, we are
leaving. We're going to go someplace very far away, where he
can't find you. But I will promise you, you will be safe.
And . . ." He hesitated just a moment. "And you'll
be with me. I'll take care of you, Sammi. Just like I
should have been doing all along."
"Where's Dana?" she asked, looking out the window at the
scenery passing by.
He didn't answer at first. He didn't want to lie to
her. "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged, still looking out the window. "I figured
she'd be with us. You know, since you love her and all. I
figured she'd be with you, that we would all be together."
She turned and looked at him. "I really like her. And you
need somebody to take care of you, Fox. If you're taking
care of me, *some* body has to take care of you," she said
pointedly.
"Dana stayed behind," was all he would say and from the
look on his face, she was afraid to ask anything else.
Rest Inn
Chloe's room
11:30 am
"Well, I've called in all the favors I have back in DC.
We should have the customer list from every car rental agency
in the closest five counties within the hour," Chloe said
confidently. "But I was hoping to get over to the scene of
the fire." She noticed Dana's raised eyebrow. "Oh, it's not
that I don't trust Michael," she hastened to add. "I just
feel better if I'm somewhere within fifty feet of him. He as
an uncanny ability to piss people off," she said with a
rueful shake of her head.
"I understand perfectly," Dana replied. She had calmed
down considerably once it became obvious that they were going
to try and find Mulder. There was no way she was going to
let him get by with walking out without a word. She would
hunt him down like a dog, but she'd find him. It was only a
matter of time. "Chloe, why don't you go on ahead over to
the house. I can wait here to get the faxes. If I get a good
lead, I'll call you," she said, getting up and ushering the
younger agent out the door.
"You're sure about this? I mean, if you don't want to
be left alone. . ."
"Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the first time Mulder
has run off and left me high and dry. I'm used to it. Now,
run along and keep Mickey out of trouble. We still have a
case to solve, somewhere in this whole mess."
Chloe nodded and left, hoping that she'd get there in
time to head Mickey off from whatever rampage he was most
certainly engaged in.
The phone rang, and Dana picked it up, expecting it to
be the desk clerk, alerting her to the arrival of the faxes.
"Chloe," a little girl's voice asked.
"No, this is Dana Scully. Chloe's not here right now,
can I take a message?"
"Oh, Dana! I'm so glad it's you." Suddenly Dana
recognized the voice.
"Samantha, is that you?" she demanded and then softened.
"Sweetheart, aren't you with Fox?"
"Yeah, we're at a truck stop for lunch. Dana, why
aren't you coming with us?"
Dana swallowed. "Well, sweetheart. . ."
"I really want you to come with us, Dana. I'm scared.
I don't want Fox to get hurt. You two are always together.
I'm afraid if you aren't here, he might get hurt. Please
come with us, Dana, please, please!" Her voice was shrill
and frightened and Dana was afraid she might start to cry.
"Where is Fox right now, Samantha? Does he know you're
calling me?"
"No. He's in the bathroom. I told him I had to go, but
I didn't. I wanted to call Chloe to get her to call you, but
you answered anyway."
"Honey, do you know where he's going? Maybe I can meet
you," Dana said, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
"He said something about Chicago. He made reservations
in the name of George Hale. We're flying TWA out of Raleigh.
Flight 431. It leaves at 4:35 this afternoon. I was sort of
listening when he called the airlines," she admitted
sheepishly. "Dana, can you come to Raleigh and get on the
flight with us? Please?"
Dana smiled. This was a small miracle and she was not
about to let it slip past her. "Yes, honey. I'll have to
hurry, but I'll be there. You just get Fox to stay by the TWA
gate and I'll meet you," she instructed. Then the thought
hit her that 'Fox' might not be so happy about this turn of
events and try to bolt. "Oh, and Sam. Don't tell Fox I'm
coming. Let's make it our surprise, okay?"
Samantha giggled. "Yeah, just us. Our surprise. I'll
see you in Raleigh, Dana."
Raleigh-Durham Airport
4:30 pm
"Samantha, sit down! You're making me nervous. What
are you looking for?" Mulder hissed to his little sister.
he smiled to himself.
Sam chewed a corner of her lip and stared at her
brother. "Nothin'. I'm not looking for anything. Just
lookin', okay?" she said testily.
Somehow, after they left the truck stop at 1:00, she had
relaxed and before long the two were talking and laughing and
Mulder realized how much he had missed her. He had always
known he missed her, but couldn't put his finger on exactly
why it hurt so badly. This afternoon had shown him all the
joy they had once shared, and it saddened him a little. It
would have been nice to have grown up 'with' his sister. But
by some twisted universal logic, he was still getting to
'watch' her grow up, and for that, he would thank whatever
entity or entities had finally returned her to him.
Sam scanned the crowd, this time checking to make sure
Fox had gone back to his NY Times Crossword puzzle before
doing so. Then, she saw her. She was going to wave, but
there was no need, Dana saw them. She nodded and hurried to
them, just before the first boarding call was made.
Ignoring her brother, Sam jumped up and ran to Dana.
She threw her arms around the agent. "I was afraid you
weren't going to make it," she cried and hugged her tighter.
"I had to drop off the rental car," Dana explained,
breathlessly. She returned the hug for a moment, not really
wanting to face the man who had slowly gotten up from his
seat and walked over to them. Taking a deep breath, she
looked up into his eyes. There she saw what she was hoping
to find. He wasn't angry, he was looking at her with all the
love she had seen just two nights before. Dana smiled in
return, hoping she reflected what she was seeing.
Finally, Sam let go of Dana and looked at both of them.
"I gotta go to the bathroom," she announced.
"I'll take you," Dana said absently, not letting her
eyes leave Mulder's.
Sam put her hands on her hips in a mock show of
defiance. "I'm 9 years old, Dana. I can go to the bathroom
all by myself! It's right over there, I'll be right back,"
and she stomped off in the direction she had pointed.
"That must be a genetic trait," Dana said with a
sheepish grin. "Stubbornness, defiance, going off on her own
. . ."
Mulder said nothing, just took a step and pulled her
into his arms, holding her tightly to him as if his very life
depended on it. After a second, he whispered in her ear,
"How did you find us?"
"Sam called. She seems to think that you need someone
to look after you. I managed to fit the qualifications," she
murmured in reply.
"I couldn't think of a better candidate for the job," he
said with a chuckle. The world was nothing more than Dana, in his arms,
until he felt a gentle tug on his
jacket.
"Are we gonna go, or not?" asked Sam, who had returned
from the bathroom. She was trying to sound annoyed, but
there was a grin on her face.
"I'm busy here, butt munch," Mulder said, not releasing
Dana from his embrace. Laughing, Dana pushed him away.
"We have a decision to make," she said, still smiling.
"I can't leave you again, but I have to make sure Sam's
safe. Can you catch the next flight, we'll wait at the
airport for you," he said seriously.
"Not a problem--'butt munch'," she laughed, and held up
her ticket for the flight just boarding. "I'm across the
aisle from you."
Harris Family residence
Orangesburg
1:30 pm
Chloe was frowning as Mickey approached her. "Still no
answer," she said tersely.
"Maybe she went back to her room," he suggested.
"Called there, no answer."
"Maybe she's taking a shower? Or the desk clerk called
with the faxes from DC and she's down there," he tried again.
"Her hair was wet when I got there this morning and I
called the clerk, he hasn't seen her." Chloe was staring off
into space, obviously trying to figure out her next move.
"Let's go back to the motel and check it out," Mickey
sighed with resignation. Chloe smiled at him and reached out
to ruffle his hair.
"You got potential, Callavelo." He shrugged in reply.
"But I'm still driving," she added sternly.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," he smiled.
Their investigation of the fire had produced no
additional leads and Mickey was just as glad to be going back
to the motel. He wasn't happy with the possibility that the
killer was still in town and their 'assistants' were busy
playing soap opera style games with each other, when they
should have been 'assisting'. He was even less happy when he
and Chloe discovered Dana's bags missing.
"Oh, shit!" Chloe cursed. Mickey looked up from his
survey of the room to find his partner holding up Dana
Scully's cell phone.
"Well," he muttered. "At least they're predictable."
"Yeah," answered Chloe with a grim chuckle, "they both
disappeared without a trace." Disheartened, she sat down on
the bed next to the night stand. "Then again. . ."
Mickey looked over at his partner, a scowl on his face.
She was rubbing a pencil over a small note pad that was
sitting next to the phone. "You got something," he asked
anxiously.
She greeted his remark with a broad smile. "Oh, I think
you could say that," she said, reaching for her purse and
starting for the door.
"Where are we going, now," he grumbled.
"Raleigh-Durham airport. And we better hurry, their
plane leaves at 4:35 and it's a quarter to 2 now."
-----
Mickey reached out and abruptly grabbed Chloe's arm.
"Wait just a minute, Chloe," he said, frowning as she
stopped and glared unhappily at him.
"What?" she hissed, unintentionally.
Mickey drew back at the biting word and let go of her
arm. He crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his
eyes, thoughtfully.
"We can't both go, you know. We do have an
investigation to take care of here. Remember the case?" he
asked.
"Well, they've got the only child we can prove has
green blood. If something happens to Sam, we'll have lost
everything. I think at least one of us should go. . ."
"Let me," Mickey said and watched as Chloe's eyes grew
wide.
"You're offering?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes. I know Chicago better than the back of my hand.
If I go, at least I'll be able to locate them much faster
than you could."
"What am I going to do in the meantime?" Chloe asked,
wincing at the thought of being left in this town by herself.
"Look, why don't you follow up on the missing persons
report and see what else you can find out and I'll call you
when I can, okay?" Michael suggested and frowned outright.
He was not going to enjoy this.
"Mickey, I have an odd feeling about this. Something is
going on," she said and noticed as he nodded in
understanding. She sighed and whispered, "Just be careful
okay?"
"I will," he said and opened the door. Chloe grabbed
his arm this time and leaned close to his ear.
"Remember that I'm not there to keep you from pissing
anyone off," she warned before letting him go. He flashed
her a mischievous smile and breezed out of the room.
Once alone, Chloe Grant blew a puff of air out her
mouth. She made her way over to Scully's bed and sat
gingerly on the corner. She was alone with an investigation
that she had absolutely no leads on. With another sigh, she
flopped back on the bed intending to get a little rest while
she thought about her next move.
-----
Raleigh-Durham Airport
4:35 PM
Michael Callavelo drew his FBI badge and forced his way
to the front of the ticket line. He shoved his badge
hurriedly in front of the clerk's nose.
"I need a ticket for flight 431, now!" he declared.
The clerk smiled at him and opened her mouth. "Don't say you
can't give me one. I already know that line. This is a
federal emergency and I've got to be on that flight."
The clerk jerked her head up and eyed his badge
suspiciously before calling over a supervisor. Mickey spent
five minutes explaining that he needed to be on the flight
and that he didn't have time to argue. They relented and
gave him a seat but by then he had to run just to catch the
plane.
After he had gone, the clerk looked at the supervisor
and frowned.
"What's with all these federal agents?"
"Beats me," the supervisor said with a shrug and
turned away.
Mickey hadn't bothered to grab his bags on the way to
the plane. There wasn't any time. He told the supervisor to
have them shipped to the FBI headquarters in Washington and
that he'd pick them up there. He would have to make do with
the money he had on him, as well as his VISA.
He was short of breath by the time he'd boarded the
plane. He glanced at his ticket and looked down the row of
seats. He immediately spotted Scully in the center section
of the plane and beside her to the left were Mulder and
Samantha.
Sam was sleeping peacefully, her head leaned against
Fox Mulder's shoulder. Scully was engrossed in a magazine and
Mulder looked lost in space. He started down towards them,
coming to a stop before Scully. He loomed over her and
smiled when she looked up, startled.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked, indicating the seat
beside Scully, which miraculously was the seat he'd managed
to snag.
"Mickey, what are you doing here?" Scully asked,
narrowing her eyes at him.
"We'll discuss this later," Mickey said as he sat down
beside her and buckled his seat belt, preparing for the
takeoff.
-----
Harris Family residence
Orangeburg, South Carolina
Chloe Grant frowned as she slipped her sunglasses from
her nose. She'd been over the crime scene twice more since
Mickey left. She still felt as though they had missed
something. The charred ground was only a reminder that they
still had no idea what was going on. She wondered if the
killer was just toying with them again. She sighed and
folded the glasses up, turning towards the entrance of the
house. She stared at the remains, black and still
smoldering.
she wondered for possibly the tenth time.
She dropped her eyes to the ground again, her gaze wandering
aimlessly around as she tried to think of what to do next.
Suddenly something caught the sunlight and seemed to
send an SOS to her. She frowned and walked towards the
shining in the grass. Bending, she picked up the little
button. It was exactly the same in design and size as the one
they'd found previously. Chloe whistled. No sooner had she
bagged the little button than she heard a strange noise.
It sounded like a match being lit. She slowly rose to
her feet and turned around, the evidence bag still clutched
in her hand.
"Find anything?" His voice was gruff and the cigarette
bobbed slightly as he formed the words.
"Who are you?" Chloe asked suspiciously. She noted his
gray overcoat and his salt and pepper colored hair. Her
gaze left him and spotted the car that was parked down the
street. She swallowed nervously and turned her attention
back to the strange man.
"That's not important right now," he answered and Chloe
narrowed her eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Where's your partner?"
"Questions, questions. I'm not answering anything
until you tell me who the hell you are," Chloe said finally,
stepping back and putting some distance between herself and
the man. She instinctively drew her gun, pointing it at him.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Agent Grant," the
man said as he blew cigarette smoke out his nose. It curled
in the air and disappeared leaving Chloe with a feeling of
dread in her stomach.
Out of nowhere, two more men appeared. Each wore dark
sunglasses and a dark overcoat, concealing their identities
slightly. Chloe bit her lip and tried to think of what to
do. Finally, she slowly lowered the gun and holstered it
again.
"Okay, let's talk," she said, putting her hands in the
air as she noticed that the two men that were on either side
of her, held some rather large handguns.
"That's it, Chloe, don't put up a fight. It'll be
easier on both of us," the man said and Chloe's body tensed
at the use of her first name. She was angry that she might
be in a situation of bad health and didn't have anyone who
could back her up. These thugs could shoot her now and no
one would know any different.
"How do you know my name?" Chloe asked, not really
expecting an answer.
"I know all about you, Ms. Grant," he replied, puffing
on the cigarette. It bobbed up and down as he spoke and
smoke billowed from it. Chloe tried to think if she'd ever
seen the man before but her mind was blank. "In fact, I know
all about your new friends, too. Mulder and Scully have been
acquaintances of mine for years and years now."
Chloe's eyebrows raised. She was suspicious but she
couldn't think of a way to safely get out of the situation so
she pried.
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
"I want the location of Mulder and Scully," he said,
smiling. He walked slowly toward her and frowned when he
noticed that she tensed again. It was almost as though she
were bracing for a fight or something. "I won't hurt you if
you give me their location," he added.
"And if I don't?"
"I'm in a position to accidentally dispose of you," his
answer was to the point and it hit home. Chloe knew this
man did not intend to just say "hi" to Scully and Mulder when
he found them. She was torn.
"What makes you think I know where they are?"
"I'm fairly certain," he said and a smirk replaced the
tight-lipped smile. "Besides, I have less humane ways of
finding out, Mr. Gregg, show her," he said and Chloe turned
her attention to one of the men as he drew a long syringe out
of his pocket, filled with a light blue liquid.
"Oh shit," Chloe whispered. She had already decided to
tell him but she felt miserable about it. She still had no
guarantee that they wouldn't kill her anyway, but her self
preservation was overriding anything else. Besides, at least
she might be able to get to Mulder or Scully if she told them
and they let her live.
"Well? Shall we do this the easy way or the difficult
way?" he asked, growing impatient.
"What do I get out of this deal?"
"A chance to live," he said and his man moved in. He
grabbed Chloe's arm and she gasped, staring coldly at the man
holding her arm. He held the syringe just above her upper
arm, ready to push it right through her shirt and into her
arm. It would be painful.
"Alright, get him off me!" she cried, struggling to
free her arm. "I'll talk! Just get this asshole away from
me!"
"Okay, let her go."
The man let her arm go and backed off. Chloe wasn't
sure she was ready to give in so easily now. Her initial
fear was gone, replaced by and anger so strong that it pushed
her adrenaline level a few notches higher.
Unsuspected by any of the three men, Chloe allowed her
self defense courses to kick in. She dropped the button and
grabbed the man who held the syringe and yanked him towards
her, knocking the syringe away as she did so. She twisted his
arm behind his back and brought him between herself and the
other man who hadn't reacted fast enough with his gun.
The cigarette smoking man was shaking his head. "Not a
good idea, Chloe," he said.
"I just want some assurance that I'll be able to walk
away from this," she said calmly, her breath thinning out a
bit. She twisted the man's arm a little harder and he
grunted in pain.
"I already told you we trade Mulder and Scully's
whereabouts for your well being," he said, his voice growing
angered as he spoke.
Chloe had backed herself between a rock and a hard
place now. She had no way to escape, even with the hostage.
Surely the smoking man would just kill his own man if it
meant killing her. She swallowed with difficulty.
"I don't believe you," she said for lack of anything
else.
"You have no choice," the man said and Chloe knew he
was right. She would not get out alive now. Perhaps she
should have left well enough alone. She released the other
man's arm and put her hands in the air. She was surprised
her hadn't asked for her gun yet, but as if he had read her
thoughts he demanded that she slowly throw it to the ground.
Slowly and deliberately, she complied.
"I have to admit, Agent Grant, that was impressive,"
he said. He was smiling again, now that he was back in
control. "But you gave up too easily."
Chloe didn't speak. She just glared at him and pursed
her lips which flattened into a white line as anger swelled
inside her. Defeated, again.
"I'm sick of games, I want a location," he said.
"Chicago," she whispered. "They've gone to Chicago."
"Good girl," he said and snapped his fingers. To her
surprise, both men began to retreat. The smoking one nodded
and held her gun up so she could see it.
She watched them bitterly as they headed back to their
car. She saw the man drop her gun on the ground outside the
sedan and get in. They sped away leaving her to kick
herself. She felt as though she should have done more but
knew that she couldn't have. At least now she'd have a
chance to warn Mulder, Scully and Mickey.
She felt her knees go weak and she remembered the
button she had found. Looking around for the evidence bag she
had dropped, she couldn't see it anywhere. She did see the
syringe, however. She slowly walked toward it and picked it
up.
She pressed the plunger, squeezing a bit of the blue
liquid into her palm. She brought her hand to her nose so
that she could smell it. It had no odor. She frowned and
tasted it. Colored sugar water.
"Fuck!" she screamed, hurling the syringe as far away
from her as she could.
*****
Chicago International Airport
Chicago, IL
Michael Callavelo smiled down at the little girl who
clung to his hand as if it were the last thing in the world.
Sam was wearing a huge grin and laughing uncontrollably as
Mickey tried to shake her loose.
"Come on, Sam, you're cutting off my circulation,"
Mickey said with a smile. He watched as Scully and Mulder
stood a little distance away, looks of curiosity and
amusement on their faces. They obviously were content to let
Sam try to yank his arm off.
People bustled around them, toting luggage, children
and various other things that were associated with travel.
Mickey sighed deeply and decided to tug Sam along with him to
where Scully and Mulder stood watching. He still had yet to
explain his unexpected arrival on the plane. Not to mention
that he wanted some answers from the two agents.
"So," he said as he stopped before them, breathing
heavily from the effort of dragging Sam along with him.
"What's up with you two anyway?"
"Meaning?" Mulder asked, his eyebrows raised.
"Meaning, why did you two take off with Sam? Just what
are you trying to pull?" he demanded, his voice calm and
even. His anger had long since dissipated. Mulder looked at
Scully, who in turn flashed a smile at Mickey.
"Mickey, there are some things that you and Chloe have
yet to learn about," Scully began. She took a deep breath
and moved forward to grasp his shoulder. "Now is not the
time or place to explain. Let's get Sam to a hotel and feed
her, then Mulder and I will try to help you to understand
what's going on."
"Fine, but we're not letting this go," Mickey said,
his eyes narrowing.
"No, we're not. You still owe us an explanation as to
why you followed us. Not to mention the fact that Chloe
isn't with you," Mulder said, and held his hand out for Sam
without taking his eyes off Mickey.
Sam immediately made a bee line for Mulder, leaving
Mickey to flex his fingers to get the blood circulating
again. Scully moved her hand down from his shoulder to his
forearm and gently tugged him away from Mulder.
"Where is Chloe?" she questioned in a hushed tone.
"She's back in Orangeburg," Mickey said and frowned.
"Why are you whispering?"
"I'm not sure yet. I just don't have a good feeling
about this. You shouldn't have left her there," Scully said
and looked back at Mulder who was finally engrossed in
tickling Sam.
"I made her stay, we do have a case to investigate, you
know."
"Look, Mickey, I want you to call her and make sure
she's alright, okay?" Scully said, her tone worried.
"I was going to anyway, thanks for reminding me."
Scully nodded and her eyes held a worried glaze.
Mickey knew he was missing something yet again. Something
that might be vital. Before he could question her further,
Scully had walked away.
He stared after her for a few moments, then pulled out
his cellular phone, quickly dialing his partner's number.
-----
Orangeburg, SC
7:00pm
Chloe stood and stared at the road, trying to calm herself down.
As her training began to supersede her anger, she remembered the
syringe. Hastily, she ran over and picked it up gingerly and
deposited it in an evidence bag. At least she had something. It
was better than being totally empty handed. She started to search
the area for the button again when her cell phone trilled in her
pocket.
"Grant," she said after punching the phone to receive.
"Chloe, it's Mick. Where are you?" She sighed in relief.
"Standing in the middle of a burned out shell of a house, where
are you?" she returned.
"O'Hare International. I just made the plane."
"Then you found them," she asked excitedly.
"Oh, yeah, I found them. Of course, that doesn't mean I know
any more than I did when I hadn't found them," he grumbled.
"We're gonna find a place to stay and get Sam some dinner. Then,
these two are in for a good old fashioned 'grilling'--Chicago PD
style! My old man taught me a few tricks. . ."
"Mickey, wait! Don't go to a hotel. Oh, shit," Chloe said,
her mind working at warp speed.
"Why not?" Mickey interrupted, and Chloe could almost see the
frown chiseled on his forehead as he spoke.
she thought to herself.
"Mickey, I just had a visitor. . ."
"Chloe," he whined. "Don't tell me this. . ."
"Mick, get a grip! Now, listen to me. I was out here at the
Harris place. I found another one of those button things we found
at the car crash. Then, all of a sudden, this old guy was standing
next to me. I swear, I've never seen him before in my life. But he
had these two thugs with him. He *knew* me, Mick! He knew my
name. And he knows Mulder and Dana. Said he was 'old
acquaintences' with them or something lame like that."
"So? Maybe he's with the local field office," Mickey suggested,
still wondering what had his usually calm partner so rattled. At
least she had always seemed calm, so far. . .
"Mickey, LISTEN TO ME! This guy was NOT FBI! He was, I
don't know, he seemed. . .this is gonna sound nuts. Mickey, I just
didn't like this guy. He seemed evil or something. . ." she let out
a frustrated puff of breath.
"*Evil*? Chloe, don't go getting metaphysical on me," Mickey
moaned into the phone. By this time Mulder had noticed the
concerned expression on Mickey's face and had come over. "Is there
a problem?" he asked quietly.
Mickey put his hand over the phone. "Yeah, I got stuck with a
woman partner," he hissed in a whisper, then turned back to the
phone. "Chloe, did this guy give you a name?"
Mulder's eyes went wide. "What 'guy', Callavelo?" he demanded.
Mickey looked up at the older agent and shrugged. "Some guy
Chloe met. Old dude, had two 'thugs' with him. Chloe's scared, for
some reason. . ."
"Was he smoking a cigarette?" Mulder asked excitedly.
Mickey looked at Mulder in confusion. "Hey, Chloe, Mulder
want's to know if this guy was smoking?" He waited for the answer
then nodded 'yes' to Mulder.
"Damn it!" Mulder cried angrily. "Give me the phone." He took
the phone out of Mickey's hand. "Grant, tell me everything that
happened. Don't leave out a thing, hear me?"
Dana and Sam were coming back from a newsstand area when
they saw Mulder and Mickey. From the grim expression on
Mulder's face, Dana knew immediately there was trouble. "Sammi,
sweetheart, you read your magazine for a minute, I need to talk to
Fox," she said calmly, handing Sammi her 'American Girl' magazine.
Sam nodded and found a seat in the nearby boarding area.
Dana met the two men a few feet away. "Now what?"
"I knew this would happen," Mulder hissed. "Look, apparently
our 'smoking friend' is interested in our whereabouts," he said,
trying to keep his voice down so that Samantha would not become
alarmed.
"Oh, no," Dana moaned.
"Yes, and our good friend Agent Grant told him we were in
Chicago," he added angrily. Seeing Dana's disbelief, he quickly
added, "I didn't mean that as it sounded. It wasn't really Chloe's
fault. He had *associates* with him, three against one are not
favorable odds. But he knows we're here. So we have to leave."
"And go where?" Dana demanded. "Mulder, we have an 8 year
old little girl with us! We can't go running off all over the
country. Now, let's think a minute. . ."
"We don't HAVE a minute," Mulder exclaimed. "I knew this
would only get complicated. . ."
"Wait a minute," Mickey intervened. "Look, if it's a safe
place you want, I know just where to find it. This is MY city,
remember," he added with upraised brows. "Trust me," he said
when they hadn't answered immediately.
The two older agents regarded each other. Finally, Mulder's
glare was replaced with a slightly lopsided halfhearted attempt at a
grin. "Sure, fine, whatever," he said to Scully, who promptly
cuffed him in the shoulder.
"Let me get Sam. Mickey, lead the way," she said.
Loyola University, Lakeshore Campus
Sheridan Road
Chicago, Illinois
The taxi pulled up to a yellow sandstone building that had all
the looks of being abandoned. Mickey tossed the driver a twenty
and smiled. "You never saw us, right?"
"Saw who?" the driver replied with a heavy accent. "No se
hable," he added with a grin.
Mickey led the trio up to the steps of the building. "I, uh,
well, I told them you were a family. It just made it easier to explain,
okay?" he said sheeplishly to Mulder. Mulder looked over to Dana,
who shrugged her shoulders.
"That works," Mulder whispered. The door to the building
opened before Mickey had a chance to knock.
A small elderly man, somewhere between 60 and 80, with
graying hair fringing a bald dome, immediately took Mickey in a
bear hug. "Michael! It's so good to see you, lad," the old man said
as he pulled back. "So, the big FBI agent comes home, huh? Well,
come on in."
"Thanks, Father Dan. It's good to see you again, too," he
smiled with affection. "Father Dan Daly, this is Fox and Dana
Mulder and Samantha. They're the ones I told you about on the
phone." They shook hands.
"Anything to help the government," Father Dan smiled and
Mulder shot Mickey a confused look.
"Now, Dan, remember. Mum's the word. We take the Witness
Protection Program very seriously," Mickey said, more for Mulder's
benefit than the old priest.
"Yes, yes, of course. Just like the old days, providing
sanctuary. Anyway, I had Mrs. Mulligan come in and tidy up a bit,
clean sheets, fresh towels. We still use it for retreats. The
University is talking about putting offices in this building, but the
rehab might be too costly. Besides, I always hold out hope that we'll
be needing it someday. Maybe you'll change your mind again, hey,
Michael? You know you'd make a better priest than a cop," the old
priest smiled.
Mickey gave him an indulgent smile. "Don't hold your breath,
Dan. But thanks for going to all this trouble. I owe you a big one."
Father Daly handed him the keys. "Well, I better get going.
I'm doing penance service at St. Gert's up the street. Father Heeley's
in the hospital again. If you have the time you might stop in. St.
Joseph's, you know, just up the road." He smiled when Mickey
nodded in compliance. "Oh, there's food in the pantry, if you're
hungry. Please make yourselves at home." He reached out and
touched Sam on the head. "Good night to you, Miss Mulder. I bet
you're tired after your long trip." Sam nodded and yawned. "God
bless you," he added to Dana and Mulder and left.
"Witness Protection Program?" Mulder asked after he was sure
that Father Daly was gone.
"Hey, I had to think fast. Besides, Jesuits know all about
sanctuary. You're safer here than anywhere on Earth. It's not
exactly the Ritz Carlton, but it's clean and well protected.
No TV, though. Sorry, it used to be part of the Seminary, until
everything was moved to Detroit. There used to be a great library,
though, on the second floor." He picked up their meager luggage
and started up the stairs.
At the first landing, Sam started to wilt. Mulder reached over
and scooped the little girl into his arms, carrying her up the next
two flights. Mickey opened the first door in the hallway and ushered
them in.
The rooms are commonly known as cells and for good reason.
White walls were adored with only a single plain wooden cruxifix.
One small window looked out over Lake Michigan, and was
darkening quickly with the setting sun. The single bed was against
one wall with a nightstand and small lamp beside it. A small dresser
stood opposite.
"The bathroom is at the end of the hall," Mickey whispered as
Mulder laid Sam down on the bed and Dana pulled the covers up
over the sleeping child. Without thinking, Dana brushed the hair
off her forehead and gave the little girl a kiss. When she stood up,
she saw her partner's eyes shining at her through unshed tears. She
reached over and squeezed his hand. The gesture wasn't lost on
Mickey and he cleared his throat.
"You two are right next door." He led the way and opened
another cell. This time, two mattresses had been hastily laid out
on the floor. Towels were laid on the dresser. "Good, Mrs.
Mulligan fixed it up," Mickey said, his eyes refusing to meet the
other two agents. "You two are here, I'm just across the hall. Well,
down a ways. These walls are pretty thick. Can't hear much," he
rambled, self consciously.
"Thank you, Mickey," Dana said with a kind smile. "It will do
nicely."
He smiled back at her. "Good. Well, I'll be turning in. Oh,
if you get hungry, the kitchen's on the first floor. Just off the
stairs to the right. It's usually well stocked. I'll see you in the
morning," he said and quickly exited, closing the door behind him.
"He knows about us," Mulder said flatly.
"I'd worry about our recruiting standards if he hadn't figured
it out by now," Dana replied and started to pull off her coat. "Do
you think it's safe?"
"Hey, you're the Catholic. I know nothing of the Jesuits. But
I don't think we have anything to worry about tonight. I'm not
planning on sleeping much, if that's what you mean." He took off
his coat and jacket and sat on the floor, his back against the wall.
Dana stood above him, watching him. "You're mad, aren't you?"
she asked evenly, trying not to turn this into a fight.
He looked up at her, silent. Then he dropped his gaze. "I'm
not mad at you. I'm glad you're here. I couldn't live without you. I
realized that about 5 minutes out of Orangeburg. But dammit,
Dana, it just makes it so complicated. I think we're better off
just leaving the country, getting the hell away from here, from
them."
She walked over and sat down in front of him on the floor.
"Well, I'm glad you aren't mad, Mulder. Because I'm mad enough
for both of us!" His head popped up and he stared, shocked, into
her icy blue eyes. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
she demanded, keeping her voice to a low hiss. "I can't believe you,
Mulder. I figured once you found Sam all these 'little road trips'
would stop. But no, you decide to run off without me, *again*, and
I have to play Columbo to find you! Well, I'm sick of it! And if
you think you're gonna pull stunts like this after the wedding. . ."
He put his hand on her shoulder, which was shaking. "What did
you just say?" he asked quietly, not really trusting either his
voice or her answer.
"I *said* that if you pull a stunt like this *after* the wedding,"
she seethed. His raised hand cut off her tirade.
"That's what I thought you said. Then you're really going to
marry me?" he asked, sheepishly.
Her face softened. "Yes, Fox, I'm going to marry you.
Somebody has to, you need a keeper! And I'm already trained in the
job. But we are going to get a few things straight. You are NOT
running off without me. Ever. Is that understood?" She smiled as
he nodded meekly. "And you have to realize that just because I
don't jump every time you snap your fingers does not mean I reject
*you*! If you didn't want to marry a skeptic, you shouldn't have
asked me in the first place." That comment merited a brief smile.
"And I don't want to leave the country. It's no way to grow up.
You don't really want to do that to Sam, or to *our* children, either,
now do you?" He was still for a moment, the slowly shook his head
no.
"But I can't lose her again, Scully," he moaned.
"Neither can I. And we won't. We just need a plan, Mulder,"
she said. "We're smarter than they are. We can do this. I may not
blindly believe in all your theories, but I *do* believe in _us_!"
"I knew there was a reason I loved you," he murmured and pulled
her into his arms.
-----
Orangburg, South Carolina
Chloe Grant scanned the ground for the button again, but it
was gone. It should have stood out because of the evidence bag.
Cancer Man, as Mulder had called him, must've taken it. Chloe was
surprised to learn that she'd just waltzed her way out of a situation
with a *very* powerful man. Mulder hadn't mentioned much about
the man, however, Chloe could just tell from the tone of Mulder's
voice.
Her shoulders drooped with defeat and her stomach felt
extremely empty. She hadn't eaten much food in the last couple of
days and she was beginning to feel the effects. She put her
sunglasses back on and slowly walked to where they had dropped
her gun. Retrieving it, she sighed and returned to her rented sedan,
getting in and locking all the doors.
"Since when have you become so paranoid?" she asked
herself. She immediately pushed that thought out of her head,
unwilling to admit that she was scared of the men she'd just had a
close encounter with.
she thought, pushing a hand through her hair.
She hated being alone now more than ever. She should have made
Mickey let her go with him. She decided that she would have to go
and get a quick lunch and maybe figure out some things from there.
Suddenly, a knock on the window startled her. Chloe
jumped and immediately grabbed her gun. She pointed it at the
window and saw the reaction of the person there. He immediately
stepped back and drew his own gun.
"Shit," Chloe mumbled, lowering her own weapon and
slowly opening the window.
"Hands where I kin see them!" the Police Officer yelled.
Chloe couldn't help it-- she laughed. "HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!
NOW!"
"I'm sorry, Officer," Chloe said. "You startled me."
She held up her badge and gave him a weak smile.
"What'n the hell are ya doing here?" he asked, slowly
returning his gun to its holster.
"I'm here investigating the murders of those children," Chloe
explained, slowly opening door of the sedan so she could get out.
"Well, uh, I'm sorry to bother you, but you're parked in a no
parking zone," he said, pointing at the fire hydrant that was hidden
behind her car.
Chloe followed his finger with her eyes and nodded. It was a
moment before she turned back to him and said, "I'm sorry, officer.
I'll move right now."
"You sure gave me a heart attack," he said.
"Sorry. I was lost in thought and I just haven't been having
the best day. Did you want to add to it and slap me with a ticket?"
she asked, joking slightly. She needed something to lighten her
mood but she was just too tired and worried to give her words the
humor they required.
"Uh, no. I think, judgin' by the looks o' you, that you been
through enough," he said and Chloe remembered the bruises and
cuts and broken finger that the car accident had left. She blushed
and shrugged.
"I wonder if you could tell me something, though?" Chloe
asked and the officer's eyebrow raised slightly.
"Yeah?"
Chloe reached into the car and pulled out the missing
children's report. She had already cross referenced some of the
names and found similarities between those children that had shown
up in Orangeburg. She glanced quickly at the names. She frowned
and said, "Could you tell me where Joanne Jenkins lives?"
"Joanne Jenkins? Yeah, she'd be the little'un that moved here
just a few weeks ago. She's living with Mark and Dee Marling,
down on Jardin street. Does that help ya?" he asked, smiling.
Chloe nodded and thanked him. She apologized again for
scaring him and climbed into her car. He waited until she had driven
away before he returned to his car and sped away himself.
-----
Marling Residence
Jardin Street
The doorbell rang for the sixth time and Mark Marling
decided he couldn't ignore it any longer. He patted his wife on the
shoulder and handed her another tissue.
"Honey, I've got to get that," he said, giving her a sorrowful
glance. She nodded and continued to sniffle and wipe away her
tears. Before he left he squeezed her hand and said, "It'll be
alright."
The person stopped ringing the doorbell and resorted to
banging on the door. Mark felt his temper growing short and he
swallowed hard before he glanced out the window. There was a tall
blond woman standing outside the door. Her azure blue eyes
immediately snapped up and locked with his as he appeared in the
window. Before he knew it, there was an FBI badge plastered
to the window so that he could clearly make out her name: Chloe
Grant.
Mark immediately drew a curtain over his emotions, forcing
his face to be a mask of stone. He opened the door and stepped
back so that he could clearly observe of the woman.
She looked miserable, tired and very sore. Her face had a
few fading bruises he noted, remembering that there had been two
FBI agents in a car accident earlier that week. He noticed, as she
put her badge in the pocket of her coat, that her baby finger was
splinted and bandaged. He frowned then, swallowing with difficulty.
"Hello, Mr. Marling? I'm Chloe Grant from the FBI," she
said, a weak smile on her face. "Sir, I'd like to ask you a few
questions about Joanne Jenkins."
He felt his heart sink as he nodded. He bit his bottom lip
and, struggle as he might, he couldn't keep a straight face any longer.
He allowed the emotion to rush back and he knew his face suddenly
changed from that of a hard, glaring man to a broken and pained
one.
"Sir?" she asked, prompted by the change in his demeanor.
"I'm sorry, won't you come in?" he said absently, stepping
aside.
"Thank you," she said as she stepped gracefully through the
door. She stood off to the side, a little agitatedly. She glanced
toward the road where she had parked her car and her eyes darted
back and forth, taking in the interior of the house.
"What can I help you with?" he asked, hoping that his wife
wouldn't realize that the FBI was here and rehash a fresh bout of
tears.
"Sir, is there any possibility I could speak with Joanne?"
Chloe asked. He found himself allowing his shoulders to hunch
forward. No sense denying it.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said so quietly that he
was afraid she wouldn't hear.
"Sir?" she probed, her eyes narrowing.
"Ms. Grant, let me explain something to you--"
"Mark, who is it..." his wife appeared around the corner and
her voice trailed off when she saw the tall woman. "Oh, hello," she
said then fell silent.
"Honey, this is Chloe Grant. She's with the FBI," he
explained and his wife's red eyes widened. The puffiness of them
immediately gave Chloe a clue that something was wrong.
"Oh."
"Hello, ma'am," Chloe said, inclining her head toward the
woman.
"Dee, I'd like to talk to Agent Grant for a few minutes. I'll
be back in, OK?" he said. His wife didn't say a word but simply
nodded. He smiled faintly and took hold of Chloe's arm, pulling her
out of the house. "I'm sorry about that, Ms. Grant," he said.
"It's all right. Now, what were you saying?" Chloe asked
and he nodded sadly.
"I was just about to explain something to you," he paused
and drew a deep breath. "Joanne Jenkins was adopted and removed
from our foster care earlier this morning. My wife is extremely
upset about it because we loved little Joanne like our own daughter,
even though she's only been here for a few weeks."
He watched as the agent's face immediately blanched. She
pursed her lips and looked as though she wanted to punch the
nearest thing and break the rest of her hand. She bit her lip in
thought and soon the color returned to her cheeks but it was the
ugly shade of anger.
"Agent Grant?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry to hear that. I think you've just
answered all my questions with that one explanation. Thank you,"
she said. She stuck out her hand dutifully.
He grasped it, puzzled by her reaction. Her handshake was
firm and admirable. Mark Marling frowned and said, "Is something
wrong?"
"Uhm, no. Thanks again for your time," she said and before
he knew it, she had dug a pair of sunglasses out of her pocket,
slipped them on her nose and begun to walk toward her car.
He never did figure out why she was wearing sunglasses
when it was nearly dark.
-----
September 5, 1995
Chicago, Illinois
7:00 am
Mickey Callavelo heard the light knock on his door, just as
he was about to try to knot his tie. He was going to have to make
due do with same suit he'd worn the day before and he didn't feel
very clean or comfortable despite the shower he'd had.
The knock came again and Mickey shrugged, abandoning his
tie on the bed. He yanked the door open and had to look down at
the little girl that stood there. He smiled.
"Sammi, good morning," he said. "What's up, kiddo?"
"Good morning, Mickey. Fox and Dana aren't awake yet and
I thought maybe you'd like to eat breakfast with me," she said,
immediately reaching for his hand. He laughed as she grasped it
with all her might.
"Sure, I'd love to... Do you cook?" he asked, grinning. He
hadn't expected the positive answer she gave.
"Yep! Bacon and eggs and French toast and omelets and...
Well," she giggled. "You get the idea."
"At your age?" Mickey asked, incredulously.
"Yes, sir!" Sam answered, her hand raising to her temple to
salute him. "I love cooking, but I usually wasn't allowed until
someone was watching me."
"That's amazing, kiddo," Mickey said. "Well, let me show
you to the kitchen, my little wonder." He smiled down to her and
led her to the kitchen.
Inside the large room, large because it had once been used to
feed a lot of people, Mickey discovered that Samantha really was a
wonder for her age. She walked around the kitchen slowly getting
to know where everything was. She inspected the fridge and pulled
out some milk, eggs and margarine. She smiled radiantly when she
turned toward him.
"Care to place your order, sir?" she asked using a childish
imitation of a restaurant waiter, a French accent slurring the words.
He was about to answer when he heard a rustling at the
door. He almost laughed when he saw a very tired looking Dana
Scully appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled as she
became aware of his intense gaze.
"Good morning," she said, sheepishly.
"Mornin'," Mickey answered and turned back to Sam. He
didn't feel like figuring out why Scully looked like she hadn't slept a
wink. "Sammi was about to make me breakfast," he said and
Samantha nodded vigorously.
"Dana, can I get something for you too?" Sam asked and
Scully shook her head.
"Honey, I'll make us breakfast." She shot Mickey a look of
mock horror. "Mickey shouldn't have asked you to make breakfast,"
Scully said and smiled. Sam was quick to jump to his defense.
"He didn't ask! I offered," she said proudly.
Scully backed off and held up both hands in defense. "My
mistake!" she cried, laughing. She yawned and dropped herself into
a chair at the same table where Mickey, too, had recently sat.
A new shadow crossed the floor and Sam giggled as Fox
Mulder entered the kitchen, his hair standing on end.
"What?" he asked, throwing up his arms.
"Your hair, Fox! Your hair!" Sam cried as she ran to him,
throwing her arms around his waist.
"Good morning to you too, Sammi," Mulder said as he
ruffled her hair so that it resembled his own. She giggled and
returned to the counter where she had set out the food articles.
"OK, what're we having?" Sam asked, assuming authority
over the breakfast scene again.
"Toast and OJ sounds good to me," Scully said, leaning
back in her chair and smiling at Mulder, who winked from where he
now stood behind Mickey.
"One order of toast. Anyone else for toast?"
"Two," Mulder said.
"Make it three," Mickey added, shrugging. "Might as well
go simple."
"Anything else?"
No one said anything and Sam frowned. She returned the
eggs to the refrigerator and busied herself with toasting the bread
that she had found in a bread box at the other end of the kitchen.
Scully got up to offer to help Sam, but the little girl was
determined to make the adults breakfast on her own. She shooed
the older woman away and giggled when Mulder said she was just as
stubborn as he remembered.
For her, it didn't have the same meaning as it did for him.
Mulder bit back the tears that threatened to slide down his face and
smiled when Scully caught and held his gaze.
Sam produced some slightly burnt pieces of toast with a
slight pout but when everyone said it was magnificent and delicious,
she held her head up high and explained that someday she'd make an
excellent chef. No one complained. They ate in relative silence,
Mulder and Scully contemplating what their next step would be and
Mickey worrying endlessly about his partner.
-----
Orangeburg, South Carolina
Rest Inn
6:15 am
Chloe Grant jerked awake, covered in sweat and breathing
heavily. She'd been plagued by men in black trench coats who
seemed to appear around ever corner she turned in her dream.
She wiped vigorously at her brow, refusing to succumb to
the darkness that threatened to cover her heart and make her day
miserable. She hadn't eaten anything the night before, despite her
better judgment.
She'd lost her appetite after discovering that all of the foster
children in Orangeburg had been adopted and transferred out of the
small town within a few hours. She couldn't believe the speed at
which they had removed the evidence of wrongdoing from the place.
-----
Orangeburg Police Station
9:30 am
After some quick calls to the South Carolina Department of
Social Services, Chloe had another piece of the puzzle.
Unfortunately, the puzzle was becoming harder to put together with
each new piece. The woman in charge of the foster program had no
information on who had adopted all of the remaining foster children.
Apparently, the adoptions were with a private agency, but when
Chloe called the number, it was disconnected. She slammed the
phone down angrily.
"Honey chile, when was the last time you et sumptin," a gentle
voice drawled from the doorway. It was Chief Russell's Aunt Rosy,
looking at Chloe with a grandmother's concern.
Chloe smiled wryly. "It's been a while," she admitted.
"Then you git yourself across that street and git some
breakfast!" Aunt Rosy demanded. "Lars a mercy, you think you kin
keep going on an empty stomach? Must be a city girl, that's all I kin
say. City girls, with those skin tight underdrawers, always trying to
git skinnier and skinner till you cain't see 'em when they stand
sideways. Ain't no man wanting to hug no skin an' bones, honey.
That nice lookin' fella you were with, that I-talian boy, he gonna
want some 'meat' to cuddle with! Now, GIT! Tell Sally you want
the 'blue plate', and that Aunt Rosy said to not spare the butter on
the toast, either," she added with a wink.
Chloe had to bite back a laugh at the thought of Mickey
and 'cuddling', but at that moment her stomach growled loudly, so
she decided to take Aunt Rosy up on her advice. With a returning
wink, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door.
She was a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what was
going on, and better yet, how she was going to tell Mickey that
every single child had now disappeared into thin air, when she
glanced down the alley, next to the diner. The cook and a
dishwasher were standing outside the back door of the
establishment, smoking. That wasn't so unusal, but what caught
Chloe's eye was the coat the dishwasher was wearing. She
recognized it as a Navy pea coat, the kind worn on ships at sea and
sold in military surplus stores. The buttons on the coat were
different than others she had seen. Her father had owned a pea coat,
and the buttons were flat pieces of plastic with an anchor imprinted
on them. The buttons on this man's coat were raised and had gold
on them. Just like. . .
Chloe almost screamed out
loud when she realized what she was seeing.
As Chloe made the connection in her mind, the dishwasher
looked up. Their eyes met across the15 or so yards that separated
them. Then the dishwasher's eyes grew wide and he shoved the
cook in front of him and took off down the alley in the opposite
direction from the street. Chloe was quick to follow in pursuit.
"Federal Agent! Stop where you are!" Chloe yelled after the
man, but that just seemed to spur him to greater speeds. He turned
the corner at the end of the alley and headed down the intersecting
street. They were now in the 'industrial park', so named because of
the recently built one story metal warehouses and 'self storage'
units in the area. The dishwasher ducked between two of the
buildings, with Chloe hot on his trail.
Chloe skidded to a stop, breathing heavily. The dishwasher had
disappeared, or so it seemed. Using every ounce of strength, she
willed herself into silence. It was like the training grounds at
Quantico all over again. She was good at this, she had the training
and the talent. She was not going to let this guy get away. Slowly,
she searched the ground. Not many footsteps, it was a dirt and
gravel area. Off to her left, she could just pick up a faint trail, the
balls of the foot coming down much harder than the heel, the kind of
tracks someone made when running. She smiled to herself and
quietly moved in that direction.
At the edge of the building she was walking beside, she came up
short. There was no sense in letting herself be ambushed. She
flattened up against the building and slid toward the corner, her
gun drawn, safety off. The man she was pursuing had very probably
killed several children, six they knew of. This was no time to take
unnecessary chances.
In a flash, she popped from around the building, in a shooter's
stance. Nothing. The alley between the two storage units was about
fifteen feet wide, the buildings about 100 feet long. There were
three dumpsters littering the way.
Chloe mused and started slowly down the alley. She approached the
first dumpster and took a deep breath, throwing off the lid and
pointing the gun barrel into the interior. Empty, save for a few
small bags of shredded paper. She swallowed and allowed herself to
breathe again. she reminded herself.
As she approached the second dumpster, she heard a scraping
sound behind her. She twisted to the side, just avoiding the metal
pipe the dishwasher swung at her head. Struggling to keep her
balance, she kicked out, hitting his arm with her foot. He tried to
grab it, but she was faster. Still she had not been able to
dislodge the pipe from his grip. He swung again and this time made
contact with her right thigh. She dropped to the ground with the
impact. The dishwasher didn't waste anytime and quick as a wink
had the pipe raised above him, ready to strike right at her head.
Chloe brought her gun up and fired.
It was point blank range and she was positive that she could
not have missed. Still the dishwasher made good on his follow
through. It was only her own quick move to the right that caused
the pipe to hit her left shoulder, just missing her head. She heard the
pipe hit her collarbone with a sickening crack. Again she fired and
this time she didn't stop until she had spent all the bullets. The
impact sent the dishwasher back five feet and finally he collapsed on
the ground.
Chloe laid back on the ground, flat on her back, and sobbed.
Loyola University
Lakeshore Campus
Sheridan Road,
Chicago
10:35 am
"That was great, kiddo," Mickey complimented Samantha again.
"You are gonna make somebody a great little wife," he added and
then looked over to see Dana's scowl.
"OR. . .you might just make great toast for yourself," she said
in a defiant tone, giving Mickey a stern dressing down with her eyes.
". . .or that," he said meekly. He glanced at his watch. "I
think I'll go see if Chloe has come up with anything," he muttered
and hastily beat a retreat from the room. Dana had the good
manners to wait until he was out of earshot to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Mulder asked, carrying an armload of books
from the library.
"Mickey," Sam said cheerfully and giggled all the more at the
confused look her brother had on his face.
"No, sweetie, I'd say it was 'men in general' that are so funny,"
Dana whispered conspiratorially to the little girl. She was rewarded
with an nod and a hug. Dana returned the hug, then looked over to
her partner.
"What did you find?" she asked. He had taken off for the
library just after breakfast and she hadn't seen him since. If he
hadn't
shown up, she was going to go looking for him.
"Oh, not much. Just this and that. For a seminary library,
they have some pretty eclectic tastes," he told her.
This didn't seem to surprise her. "They're Jesuits. Eclectic
is their middle name," she replied. "But what did you hope to
find?"
"Oh, some history books, a couple of atlases. . ." he let his
voice trail off as he searched the room to see where Samantha was.
He saw her in a corner of the sitting room, reading her magazine
from the flight. "A book on abductions. . ." he added in a whisper.
"You mean one that you haven't either read, edited or acted as
a technical advisor on?" she retorted with a scowl. He merely rolled
his eyes at her.
"I want to lay out a plan. First, we can't stay here forever.
Especially if Cancer Man is after us. Second, Sam has no memory of
her abduction and not a lot of memories of our childhood. I get the
feeling she thinks she's only been gone a little while. She has no
idea that she's been missing for 25 years and that she should be over
30 years old by now. We're going to have to help her face that." He
sighed and leaned back into the big overstuffed chair he was sitting
on. "And I have to figure out what, if anything, I'm going to say
to Mom."
"Fox, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but the
possibility of a clone. . ." Dana said quietly. She didn't look at him
directly, afraid of what she might see.
He surprised her. "I've thought of that, too. But I rejected
it as a theory. I think whoever took these kids, Sam included, in
the first place, finally brought them home. And I think who ever in
our government had knowledge of these abductions figured out that
these kids were a liability that they couldn't afford. I'm sure she's
Sam, Scully. It feels different than last time. This time, it just
feels
real."
Dana reached over and took his hand. "Then I hope you're
right," she said softly and leaned over to give him a kiss.
The kiss would have ended much later if Mickey hadn't taken
that opportunity to burst into the room.
"I have to get back to South Carolina," he said breathlessly.
"Chloe's in the hospital."
"OK, Mickey, now slow down," Dana pleaded as the younger
agent paced in front of the window, watching for the airport taxi he
had called. "What, exactly, did Chief Russell say?"
"It was the dishwasher at the diner across from the police
station. The guy has been under our noses all the time and we never
saw it! Damn it all to hell!" he shouted, then made every effort to
calm himself. "I'm sorry, Dana. I'm just. . ."
Dana put a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about it. What did
the Chief say, was Chloe shot, what happened?"
"Something about her leg and her shoulder. I really couldn't
get much out of him and apparently the doctors didn't want her
talking. Or maybe she couldn't talk, I don't know," he whined.
"Where the fucking hell is that damn cab!" he hissed and looked like
he was going to start punching out the old oak door.
"Agent Callavelo," came a stern male voice behind him. "Scully,
give us a moment," Mulder added to his partner. She nodded and
left the room.
"I shouldn't have left her. Damn it all, I shouldn't have left
her!" Mickey moaned and leaned against the door, almost allowing
himself to slide down its length. Mulder walked over to put both
hands on the younger man's shoulders.
"Mickey, you have to calm down," he said gently. "This isn't
going to get you there any faster. And it sure won't help Chloe
when you get there. Come here a minute." He motioned for Mickey
to sit down on one of the foyer chairs. For a split second, Mickey
looked ready to bolt. Then, with a dejected shrug, he obeyed.
"Is Chloe your first partner?" Mulder asked, his voice taking on a
softer edge.
"The first one that isn't 10 years my senior," Mickey admitted.
"And the first . . . well, she _is_ a woman," he added pointedly.
Mulder thought better of the smile he was about to reveal and
nodded seriously. "So I noticed," he agreed.
"I mean, I should have been there," Mickey wailed again. "Chief
Russell says she went after this bozo without any back up, just by
herself! Somebody reported hearing shots being fired and a squad
car showed up to find her and the perp. He's dead, by the way. She
was out of it and they called an ambulance. She could have gotten
*killed*, Mulder. How would you feel if. . ." he stopped before
finishing the thought. From the look in the other agent's eyes, he
knew _exactly_ how it felt. He swallowed and closed his eyes.
"Does it get _any_ easier?" he moaned.
Mulder sighed heavily. "No," he said, shaking his head. "As a
matter of fact, it only gets worse," he admitted. They both looked
up at the sound of the taxi's horn. "Just be there for her now.
Sometimes our jobs are to help pick up the pieces," Mulder said and
patted Mickey on the back as he hurried out the door.
In the doorway, out of sight, Dana wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Ain't it the truth," she muttered to herself.
-----
Orangeburg, SC
5:15 pm
Someone had a firm grip on her hand. She stirred into
a state of semi-sleep and something triggered the memory. The
pipe. The gleaming metal pipe that seemed to loom in her
mind. She cringed and fought to remove her hand from the
steel grip. She thrashed around, pain searing her flesh.
"Chloe--" The voice drifted toward her, penetrating
through the horror she felt at the warm touch of whoever was
holding her down. "Chloe, wake up!"
She recognized the voice. She fought to get control of
herself and in the process she became fully awake. She
opened her eyes to see a familiar face looming before her.
"Mickey?" she whispered, her voice harsh and
untrusting.
"Chloe," he said and a brilliant smile crossed his
handsome face. She didn't think she'd been so glad to see
him in her entire life.
She glanced away from his welcome visage and discovered
the white washed walls of the room that surrounded her. She
licked her parched lips and shifted her position which only
brought more pain.
"Ugh!" she cried.
"Just lay still," Mickey said, pushing the matted hair
off her forehead. She winced and nodded.
"The dishwasher...?"
"Is dead," Mickey said. "You sure did a number on the
guy, Chloe."
"Dead? How many bullets?"
"The whole clip."
"The *whole* clip?" Chloe asked, her eyes widening.
Mickey nodded. Chloe bit her lip and tried to sit up.
The pain was severe but not unbearable and she was able to
make it to a sitting position.
"He got me," she whispered.
"Yes, he did," Mickey said.
"We're talking in circles," Chloe observed. "Got any
tea?"
"Ginseng," Mickey said, producing a single cup tea bag
from his pocket. "I knew you were going to ask for it."
Chloe smiled and accepted the packet. "Wait here, I'll
get some water for you," Mickey said, jumping out of his
chair and dashing out the door before she could object. A
few minutes later he reappeared with a white Styrofoam
cup filled with steaming water. He took the packet back and
dropped it into the cup, allowing it to soak.
"If I take you home, can I keep you as my personal
nurse?" Chloe asked. Mickey just cocked his head to the side
and laughed. "Okay, seriously now, the dishwasher was the
one."
"Yes, and you went after him by yourself. Which
reminds me, I'm supposed to be mad at you," Mickey said and
his eyes narrowed in mock anger. "Promise me you won't do
that again."
"Mickey--"
"Promise it, Chloe. If we're going to be partners,
you've got to promise me that."
"Michael, I..." she paused, searching for the words.
"I promise, Chloe, say it," Mickey said and this time
his voice held conviction.
"Okay, I promise," she said dejectedly.
"Good," Mickey grinned and sat back down in the chair
beside her bed.
"The doctor said your collar bone is broken and your leg is
fractured. That dishwasher really got you and you're going
to have a rough time recovering. This case is considered
closed--" Mickey would have continued but Chloe held up a
hand to silence him.
"Mick, the children... Something is going on, they've
all been adopted."
"It's not our problem now, Chloe. Let's just get our
asses back to Washington and get on with it," Mickey said,
shrugging his shoulders.
"Where are Mulder and Scully?"
"In Chicago," Mickey said, then thought for a moment.
"They've got Sam and are hiding at the University. I left
them there..."
"We have to go to Chicago," Chloe said.
"You, my friend, are going home to recoup.
Understand?"
"Michael--" Chloe began to argue.
"You can't walk, Chloe," he reminded her, knowing that
she was going to insist that he let her go to Chicago.
"Whatever mess they are in, they have to get out of it
themselves. I've left them with trusted friends and
whatever they do from there doesn't involve us..."
"You're an asshole," Chloe said but her smile allowed
him to hold firm in his belief that they were going to be
partners for a long time.
"Thank you," he said. "Does this mean you'll keep
me?"
"Oh boy, you're a keeper all right."
"Secure in that knowledge, I leave thee to sleep. Good
afternoon, fair lady," Mickey said and got up to leave.
Chloe reached up and grabbed his hand.
"Thanks for coming, Mick," she whispered.
"Hey, what are friends for?" Mickey said before he
flashed a smile and disappeared out the door.
Chloe took a small sip of the hot tea and leaned back
against the pillows. She did not like being immobilized and
was not impressed that she would be in no condition to do
anything for a while now. The cast that held her
shoulder in position was uncomfortable and a royal pain in
the ass.
"Jesus Christ," she sighed before setting the tea
aside and struggling into a more comfortable position.
Despite herself, she dropped off to sleep.
-----
Chicago, IL
Loyola University
Fox Mulder started the sedan that he and Scully had
rented for their stay in Chicago. They had already discussed
the situation and had decided that heading back to Washington
to talk to the Assistant Director of the FBI was their only
solution. He had helped them keep Cancer Man at bay before.
They already knew that Skinner would help them out, if he
could.
Mulder sighed and leaned his head back against the
headrest, closing his eyes. He was tired and he knew it
would be nice to get home. He needed to get a hold of some
people to have a few things taken care of. He had to get
a bigger apartment.
When he thought of the other thing he had to do, his
smile grew. A ring for Scully. A nice engagement ring. He
was so happy that he didn't even react when the door opened
and someone got in the car. He simply assumed it
was Scully.
"Fox Mulder, so nice that we should meet here of all
places," the cold and steely voice said. Suddenly Mulder's
nose was filled with the unmistakable stench of cigarette
smoke. His eyes snapped open and his smile faded, replaced
by a cold frown.
Mulder did not reply.
"I see you've found Samantha. She's special, you
know," Cancer Man was saying. Mulder tried to block it out
but couldn't.
"What the hell do you want?" he asked, unafraid of the
consequences.
"All I want is for you to return the girl. She's not
your sister any more--" Cancer Man began but Mulder turned
angrily on him.
"Like hell she isn't!" he cried
"Mulder, take a look at her. She's nine years old,"
Cancer Man said and Mulder felt the blow. As usual the
older man was trying to make pain using words. This time,
Mulder decided, it would not work. He'd shoot the man
clean through the head before he let him wrap his withered
fingers around his heart this time.
"Shut up!" Mulder said, and reached for his gun. The
older man was too fast. Before Mulder knew it, words were
not the only weapon in the game any more. There was a fair
sized Smith and Wesson pointed at his temple.
Mulder swallowed, moving his hands slowly to the
steering wheel so that the bastard could see them.
"You'll return Samantha to me and I'll be on my way,"
the man said and Mulder could hear the pleasure in his words.
"How'd you find us?" Mulder asked, feeling the last
tendrils of his control shriveling away and tightening.
"Your friend Chloe Grant was very useful and from there
a fair bit of money came in handy, you know," Cancer Man
said. "Now, where's Sam?"
"I don't have her," Mulder lied.
"Don't play games, Mulder. Where the hell is the
girl?"
Mulder remained silent, infuriating the man.
-----
Dana Scully laughed as Sam struggled to hoist Mulder's
bag over her shoulder. The little girl had insisted on
carrying her big brother's stuff while Scully took hold of
all the smaller things. Scully thought Samantha
was probably just excited to be heading back to the airport
for another plane trip.
Scully watched the struggle for a few more minutes and
decided the suitcase was much to heavy for the nine year old
girl. She would fall down the stairs if Scully didn't stop
her soon.
"Sammi, let me carry those," Scully said but Sam
refused, shaking her head vigorously.
"No way, man," Sam said and in a defiant action she
started down the stairs. Scully winced but was surprised
when the child made it all the way down safely. She sighed
with relief and followed.
"Crazy kid," she whispered to herself and it was then
that she realized just what a hold this kid had on her heart,
it was surprising and somewhat frightful.
"Are you coming?" Sam asked as she noticed that Scully
had stopped walking halfway down the stairs.
Scully started and grinned. "Yeah, I'm coming. Geez.
Impatient," Scully said. She moved down the stairs and in no
time she was beside Sam at the front of the building. Mulder
should have had the car out front already, so Scully began to
walk in the direction of the parking lot. Mulder probably
locked the keys in the car or something stupid like that.
Samantha was a few steps behind her, but soon enough
she had caught up to Scully and passed her. Sam stopped dead
when she noticed something out of the ordinary. Fox Mulder
was sitting inside the car and there was another man there
too.
"Dana, who's Mulder talking to?" Sam asked, her eyes
widening. She sighed, noticing that Dana's face turn
absolutely white. As white as a sheet. The next thing she
heard was the most surprising. Dana Scully cursed. It was
a curse like none that Sam had ever heard before. She began
to blush, knowing that she probably shouldn't have heard such
words from Scully's mouth and probably wouldn't again.
"Sammi, I'm sorry," Scully said hurriedly, yanking the
girl, suitcase and all, back around the corner. "I want you
to go back inside the University. Wait inside until I come to
get you."
Sam began to lug the suitcase and Scully touched her
shoulder. "Forget the suitcase, just run."
It was the tone of Scully's voice that frightened Sam
the most. It was a scared tone, one which Sam had never heard
an adult use before. Just as she reached the steps of the
University, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see
Scully drawing her gun out of its holster.
Sam started to cry. The tears burned her eyes as she
ran up the remaining steps and into the University.
-----
Scully hadn't meant to express herself in such a
colorful manner in front of the young girl, but it was the
only way to get out the feelings she felt at seeing Cancer
Man in the car with Mulder. She wasn't sure what the
situation was and she didn't know what she should do. She
decided to wait for a few minutes and observe the situation.
She remained hiding around the corner. She didn't want
to alert Cancer Man to the fact that she was around, just in
case it should complicate things.
-----
"Alright, Mulder, we're getting out of the car,"
Cancer Man said, using a commanding voice.
"And if I don't want to?"
"Your lovely wife-to-be will be cleaning your brains
off the interior of the car just before I shoot her." The
reply was harsh and made Mulder cringe. He didn't question
how the despicable man knew that he and Scully were engaged
but he did question the direct threats. Did this asshole
think he could get away with it?
"Alright, let's go," Mulder said and slowly opened the
door. As he did so, he weighed his options. They were
pretty slim. He decided to play along and see what it earned
him. He knew Cancer Man wouldn't shoot him yet. He needed
the girl and wouldn't leave until he got her.
"Easy, Mulder. None of that funny stuff," the man
said and Mulder thought it was the dumbest thing he'd ever
heard. It was a line right out of the movies.
"Alright, I'm out, now what?" he asked.
The man slowly opened his door and quickly stepped out,
his aim only leaving Mulder for a few seconds as he
repositioned himself.
"We walk," Cancer Man said.
Mulder nodded and began his journey using slow
deliberate steps. The faster he walked, the closer he became
to losing Sam. He had no idea that Scully was waiting
around the corner.
-----
Scully's breath hitched in her throat as she watched
Mulder being directed towards the building. She didn't like
the feeling that was raising in her stomach and seating
itself in her heart. This time she didn't push it down.
It was better to let the fear and anger mingle because she
was determined in her plan.
She could hear the shuffling of Mulder's slow and
deliberate footsteps, her hearing heightened by the blood
rushing through her body and the adrenaline feeding her
strength. Soon enough she saw Mulder's body appear
around the corner and knew that Cancer Man was behind him.
She swallowed hard and set her jaw.
In one fluent motion, Scully pushed Mulder to the side
and stepped forward just as Cancer Man rounded the corner.
She knocked the gun out of his outstretched hands and swiftly
brought the butt end of her gun down, cracking the older man
over the right cheek.
He uttered a cry and fell to his knees. It was more a
reaction of surprise than pain but it was better for Scully.
She kicked him in jaw and sent him sprawling backwards,
pointing her gun down at him.
"How does it feel?" Scully asked, angrily. She could
feel Mulder's presence behind her and knew that she should
let the anger subside, but she just couldn't. "How does it
feel to know you're about to die?" she screamed.
"Scully," Mulder said from behind her. She knew her
body was shaking with all the anger she felt but she didn't
want to stop. She had to finish this once and for all, while
the man was immobilized and at her mercy.
"Mulder, shut up," she whispered. The cold blaze in
her eyes reflected in Cancer Man's. He began to squirm but
he wasn't in any condition to get himself out of danger.
"What are you doing, Scully?" Mulder asked and
suddenly his voice was full of fright. He hadn't known that
Scully had so much anger pent-up towards the man before them.
Sure, he'd caused them pain in the past but...
His thought wasn't completed. Scully had squeezed her
eyes shut and turned her head to the side, as though she
couldn't bear to watch what she was about to do. The sound
of the gunshot resounded off the old walls of the University.
Suddenly all things around them ceased to exist for the
time being and all Mulder saw was Scully's eyes open with
every emotion flashing in them except fear.
She slowly turned to him, her chest raising and falling
with each breath, tears flowing down her face. She dropped
the gun to the ground and took a few steps toward him.
Mulder rushed to her and threw his arms around her,
supporting her because he was sure that she would fall. As
he rubbed her back consolingly he could see the mess she'd
left. Her shot was well place even though she hadn't been
looking and Cancer Man's gray matter was splattered all over
the parking lot.
It was a few minutes before his senses returned to him
and he was aware that Scully was sobbing against his chest.
She'd just killed a man in cold blood. She'd killed men
before but this one seemed different somehow.
Perhaps it was because he could no longer be a burden
to them or perhaps it was because she had done it with such a
cold fury.
"Dana," Mulder said, rubbing the back of her neck
gently and hoping the action was enough to calm the sobs.
"Fox, I killed him," she said, her voice so shaky and
remorseless that Mulder didn't know just what she was saying.
"It's for the better," Mulder said.
"I killed him," she repeated.
Shock. Scully was in shock.
"Dana, listen to me, it's alright," Mulder said. "You
did everything completely legally," he tried to convince
her.
-----
University Parking
Loyola University
"I think that's all we need for now, Agent Mulder.
Thank you for your cooperation," the short, balding detective
for the Chicago Police Department said. Mulder vaguely
remembered him introducing himself as Det. Patrick Mulligan.
Mulder nodded and shook the man's hand. Now that his
statement was given, he could go on to the really important
things. Like finding Scully in all this mess.
The gunshot had brought people, lots and lots of people,
out of the nearby classrooms. The gawkers hung on for a
while, watching the Coroner's wagon load the black body bag
into its cargo area, and leaving the scene. The black and
white squad cars, with the blue uniformed officers, did their
best to keep the crowd at bay, but this was fairly exciting,
even more so that it happened on a relatively quiet college
campus and during broad daylight. The official story was
simple. An attempted abduction of a Federal Agent resulted
in the death of the abductor. It was a good thing the
Federal Agent had the good sense to be in the company of
another Federal Agent at the time of the attempt. Case
closed.
In the midst of the crowd, Mulder spied Father Daly. He
motioned the agent over with a wave of his hand. "Dana is in
the chapel. It's quiet in there. She looked like she needed
some time," the old priest said with a gentle smile.
"Where's Sam?" Mulder asked, again scanning the area.
"I called Michael's mother. The Callavelo's live in
Rogers Park, just a few blocks over. She's with little
Samantha in my office over in the Doyle Center. She'll be
fine until the two of you come get her. And if I'm not
mistaken, Bridget, uh, Mrs. Callavelo, is expecting the
three of you for dinner. Young Michael is going to have some
'heavy' explaining to do with his mother for not telling her
he was in town, I'm afraid," Friar Daly added with a wicked
grin. Mulder grinned back and left at a trot to find Scully.
The Chapel of the Madonna de la Strata was on the edge
of Lake Michigan. Just a few feet from the door of the old
Church, the waves of the Lake lapped on the shore,
threatening with each movement to dislodge more of the
precious soil. One day, without intervention, the Chapel
would be claimed by the Lake. But for now, it was a haven in
the middle of a crowded urban area. Slowly, Mulder pulled
open the heavy wooden doors and entered.
It was dark and slightly dank inside. The smells of
candle wax, incense and lake water mingled to make their
presence almost tangible. The only light came from the
stained glass that lined the walls. He found her in the
front of the church, kneeling before a statute of someone he
could only guess was Mary. Scully looked to be lost in
prayer. He walked toward her hesitantly.
"It's okay, Mulder, it's not a private conversation,"
Dana said, without letting her gaze waver from the statute in
front of her.
"Blessed Mother, this is the man I plan to marry. Fox
Mulder, meet the Mother of God," she added and let a gentle
smile form on her lips.
"Nice to make your acquaintance, uh, Your Lady?" he said
with a bit of confusion. He couldn't tell if Dana was
serious with this or not and he sure didn't want to cause her
any more heartache for the day.
"Our Lady," Dana corrected. "She's Our Lady." Suddenly
her shoulders began to shake and her head dropped to her
chest as tears coursed down her cheeks. "Oh, Mulder, I just
killed a man," she sobbed as he took her in his arms. "I
killed a man in cold blood. I can't believe I did that. I
just can't believe I could hate anyone that much. . ."
He stroked her hair and made soft noises in her ear.
"It's okay, Dana. It's okay. He would have killed me once
he had Sam. And there's no telling what he would have done
to her. You did the right thing. It's all right. It will
be all right."
"Sam! Where's Sam?" she asked anxiously, looking behind
him toward the door of the chapel. "Mulder, what if he wasn't
alone?"
"Not to worry. Father Daly took her to his office.
Mickey's mother is with her now. I think she's safe. And as
for. . .whatever the hell his name was, well, I'm certain he
was alone. Otherwise, whoever was with him would have taken
me out when you started shooting."
At that thought, she clutched him harder and sobbed
again into his shoulder. "I couldn't let him take her. I
knew that's what he wanted. I just couldn't let him. Not
again."
He gently pushed her away for a second to look into her
face. "You mean you killed him because he was going to take
Sam," he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Well, yes," she said, confusion in her eyes. "Why
else?"
"Oh, I thought it might have been that I was in danger.
You know, he did have a gun on me," Mulder said pointedly.
"Mulder," Scully responded, slightly annoyed, "you could
have handled that. I was worried that he'd knock you
senseless and take Sam. I just wanted it over. I don't
think I could have gone on worrying every night if he might
come and take her again. That was the only thought in my
mind." She wiped at her cheek and he handed her his
handkerchief.
Mulder bit back his smart reply. This was not the time.
It suddenly occurred to him that maybe the woman in front of
him really did love his sister, possibly as much as he did.
And more than ever before he determined to make her his wife.
He looked around at the small chapel. It was very
pretty, old, lots of dark wood and beautiful carvings. "Nice
church," he commented. She looked around, perhaps for the
first time and nodded. "Make a great place for a wedding,"
he said, his eyes shining. She graced him with a precious
smile.
"We'd have to fly back here," she said. "And we'd have
to bring everyone with us."
"What everyone? Your mom, the Gunmen, maybe we'll
invite Skinner, Chloe and Mickey. Everyone else has to fly
to get to the wedding anyway. So how about it, Scully? Make
an honest man of me. Here, in this chapel."
-----
Four months later...
Wicket's Bar and Grill
Washington, DC
Michael Callavelo, dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt
and a black leather jacket, stepped out of Chloe's sedan and
gawked at the line of people that led to the entrance of the
bar.
"Chloe, maybe this isn't such a good idea..." Mickey
protested, feeling a little self conscious. He stood beside
the car and stared at the line as Chloe came up beside him.
She leaned close to him and said, "Mickey, don't be
ridiculous. I've been promising this since we got on that
plane together."
"I know but--"
"But nothin', Mick. You're not going to give up a
night of all-you-can-drink beer, are ya?" Chloe asked,
poking him playfully in the ribs with her elbow.
Mickey laughed, he couldn't help it. Chloe had the
strangest grin on her face. "Alright, but how long do you
think it's going to take us to get in there?" Chloe's grin
spread at the question.
"Just watch," she said. She grabbed a hold of his
wrist and dragged him to the beginning of the line where she
left him to watch her tactics. He noticed that she looked
good in tight fitting jeans and a plaid workers shirt.
Obviously the bouncer at the door, whose ear she was
now whispering in, agreed completely. The bouncer smiled and
nodded. Chloe laughed and returned to Mickey's side. He
tried to ignore the fact that she still had a limp from her
injuries but it was too evident.
"What did you say to him?" Mickey asked, curiously.
He was trying to shut out the guilty feelings he felt for not
being there to help Chloe. Shoving them into the back of his
mind he forced himself to smile. He discovered it wasn't all
that difficult around Chloe.
"I reminded him of a favor I did for him once. He's a
friend of mine," Chloe replied. Mickey shook his head. He
wasn't going to ask her to explain the favor, he wasn't sure
he wanted to know.
"Alright, I'm following you. That guy scares me,"
Mickey said, draping his arm casually over Chloe's shoulder
as a friend might.
"He scares you? Mickey, you're the one with the
gun..." Chloe said and laughed.
"Not tonight," he said as they walked through the
crowds of people.
"No gun? How do you expect to defend yourself from
your evil partner?" Chloe asked, grinning. They found a
booth in the far corner of the bar and had to shout over the
music to be heard. Mickey shrugged and leaned over
the table to shout in Chloe's ear.
"I'm not afraid of you," he said. Chloe smiled. She
had begun to think this partnership could be the start of a
long lasting friendship--something she hadn't had in a long
time. Things were looking up for the both of them.
-----
Chapel of Madonna de la Strata
"Stand still, Mickey! You keep wiggling," Samantha
Mulder berated the young agent as she attempted to tie his
ascot.
"I do better at these things on the 'other' side of the
altar, ya know," was his hissed comment. "I was a fairly
decent Altar Boy. I was almost a Deacon."
"Your talents never cease to amaze me, Callavelo," Fox
said dryly, leaning against the door jam and admiring his
sister's handiwork. "Hey, squirt, aren't you supposed to be
helping the bride?"
"Nah, Chloe said she had it under control. She wanted
me to make sure you two guys don't embarrass us." She jumped
down from the stool she was standing on. "Here, let me look
at you," she ordered her brother. Dutifully, he turned
around in a slow circle, while Mickey and Sam let out wolf
whistles.
"You two _can_ be replaced," he growled. Then he
reached down and gave his sister a tight hug. "Now, off with
you. Go do what flower girls are supposed to do."
"I am NOT a 'flower girl'!" she said indignantly. "*I*
am a 'junior attendant'!"
"Then go 'attend'!" he ordered and gave her a light
swat on the backside as she scooted out the door giggling.
"So, you got 'cold feet', yet?" Mickey asked when Sam
was safely out of earshot.
"Not on your life, Callavelo. I've been waiting
for this day forever."
"You're getting a wonderful lady, that's for sure. And
she isn't that bad a boss, either," he smiled. The new,
expanded X-Files division, which included two subdivisions,
one investigative, one forensic had been Skinner's wedding
present. With the demise of Cancer Man, the Consortium had
vanished into thin air, but managed to leave behind enough
evidence to answer several questions.
"She's too easy on you. She needs to whip you into
shape," Fox smiled.
"Oh, like you do?" Mickey asked with a devilish grin.
"Come on. Chloe will kill me if I don't get you out there on
time."
***********
"Do you see them?" Dana asked, trying to sound calmer
than she felt.
Chloe was standing with the door to the sanctuary opened
a crack. "Just a minute. . .OK, here they come. Yeah.
They're up there now," she said and tried to hide her relief.
"You did a good job with that tie, Sammi. I couldn't have
done better," she smiled down at the little girl.
Samantha beamed. "It wasn't easy, either. He fidgets,"
she said solemnly.
Chloe broke into a grin. "I've noticed. Last stake out
I was ready to tie him to his seat! The man is. . ."
"Typical?" Dana chimed in and all three broke into peals
of laughter. When they regained their composure, she
straightened her dress and veil. "Chloe, you're sure about
this?" she asked before taking her bouquet from her 'maid of
honor'.
"Hey, it will be a pleasure. I'll love watching Sam for
you while you're gone. Who ever heard of taking a nine year
old on a honeymoon! You two just go, have a great time and
maybe even leave the hotel room once or twice, just to send
us a post card," she added with a wink. "Now, come on. I
think we've made them squirm long enough. Move out, troops!"
-----
END
End Note: Big thanks go to Megan Reilly who did a wicked
editing job on this. Thanks for the time and effort Megan!
(Hey, why not have a shameless plug?) Go read her stuff,
it's great!
--